by Anthology
Her pussy clenched, longing for their lovemaking to begin. She wanted to discard her drawers, fall back on the bed and enjoy the delicious thrusts of his cock.
But she reminded herself of her duty. Her goal was more than their mutual pleasure. She needed to instruct him so that his book could be corrected.
“Rob.” She put her hands on his shoulders, holding him back. “You must help me out of my stays. I wish to have no clothing between us when we lie in bed together.”
Without answering, he pulled her back into his embrace, his hot mouth roving up her jawline. Taking her earlobe in his mouth, he sucked it. Mercy, how could she resist that? She slumped against him, her eyes closing. His lips on her sensitive earlobe stoked the flames raging inside her.
She forced herself to turn in his arms. “Undo my laces, dear.”
His fingers fumbled with the knots Annie had tied for her that morning. Although she did not lace tightly, it was always a relief when her stays were loosened. She worked the undergarment over her head.
When she moved to face him, she saw that his brow was beaded with perspiration. She put her arms around him. “Don’t be nervous, Rob. I am quite sure all will go well between us.”
“There’s something I haven’t mentioned. Something I must confess. I suppose I should have told you before I let things go so far…” Despite his words, he held her tightly, as though he couldn’t bear to release her.
“What is it?” she demanded. When he hesitated, she softened her voice. “You know you can tell me anything, dear.” Lurid ideas arose in her mind, alarming her.
“My-my member. The other boys used to mock me when we swam together.”
She hardly dared to ask. Was it deformed somehow? Missing some essential part?
“It’s very large, Vanessa.” His last words came out in a rush. “I fear you may not be able to accommodate me.”
She sighed with relief. “My husband was large too. Now aren’t you happy you chose a widow for your first experience?” Whisking herself out of his arms, she went to the bed and reclined upon it.
He remained frozen in place, looking at her.
“Do you know what comes next?” she asked.
Slowly, he nodded. “The act has been described to me by married friends.” His voice turning hoarse, he added, “You’re so beautiful, it’s hard to pull my eyes away. Now I know why the Old Masters always painted nude women. There is nothing lovelier on earth.”
“Darling Rob.” She reached out her hand to him. “Remove your trousers and join me on the bed.”
Keeping his gaze on her, he unbuttoned his trousers and pushed them down. His erect cock swelled against the bottom half of his union suit. He pulled that down too. His cock stood up tall against his lean stomach.
Mercy. He hadn’t exaggerated a bit. A phrase she’d learned from her husband, Hung like a horse, came to mind.
His ruddy member was not only long but thick as well. She doubted her hand would close completely around it.
She ached to have him inside her, that massive cock dipping deep into her greedy channel. Wetness leaked from her pussy as she anticipated his eager thrusts.
The man should not linger overlong in the act. His wife will thank him for performing quickly and leaving her in peace. Since it is well known that ladies do not experience pleasure the way men do, they should lie still and take their delight in the measure of happiness they provide to their husbands.
Professor Woodcock’s Guide to Success and Happiness in Marital Relations (1st edition, 1893)
He stretched out beside her on the bed. He was about to make love to Vanessa, something he had dreamed about for years. Breathing deeply, he noted how her violet scent had altered, growing muskier. His own excitement heightened.
She ran her palm boldly up his shaft. He hadn’t expected her to actually touch his member. He gasped with the wonderful pleasure of the caress.
Aching to plunge into her, he restrained himself, waiting for a sign from her.
“I know you’re ready to make love, but often the woman takes longer to enter that state,” she said. “There are things you can do to prepare me.”
He nodded, thinking of what he had learned from his studies. “May I touch you?”
She turned onto her back and raised her knees. “Stroke me with your hand,” she murmured.
Although longing to caress her womanly parts, he still hesitated. “Truly?” he stammered. “Your modesty will allow—”
“My husband had a saying, Modesty stays outside the bedroom door. When you take a virgin bride, she may know nothing of the marital act. She will follow your lead. Your duty will be to show her pleasure.”
Her talk of this imaginary female bothered him. He didn’t know why—always before he’d looked forward to his future marriage.
“Let us not speak of that,” he said. “Show me what pleases you, sweetheart.”
Taking his hand, she guided it to her nether region. “Do you know what this is called?”
“The vulva. In more common terminology, the pussy.” He rubbed her gently, enjoying the springy feel of her dark curls.
She gave a long sigh. “I’ve always thought it is like a little furry cat—happy to be stroked the right away. Mmmmm…” Her breath caught. “That’s good. You’re touching me just the way I like.”
Remembering what he’d read in a medical book, he brushed the back of his hand lightly against her clitoris. She moaned and her hips rose. He did it again, fascinated to see if she would respond the same way twice. She did, except this time her moan held more longing.
“I have read that the clitoris is the seat of female pleasure,” he murmured. “And yet other authorities say that ladies have no feelings in this area.”
“Now you know the truth,” she answered. “I am a lady, yet I love your touch.”
He stroked her over and over, thrilled by the way she responded.
Shifting, she moved her thighs parted farther. Her musky aroma increased. “Touch me here,” she whispered, moving his hand to her channel. Eager to please, he ventured a finger inside her. He was startled to discover how she felt.
“Your vagina is so wet inside.” Truly, this was a time when experience was a far better teacher than a medical book.
“Of course. That means I’m ready to make love with you.” Her arms wound about his neck, pulling him closer. She whispered in his ear, “I can’t wait until your cock is inside me.”
Her words shocked and enticed him at the same time, a potent combination. He moved into position. Male superior—the correct position for all civilized humans.
“Start with a slow, gentle thrusting,” she instructed. “Then increase your speed as we move together in rhythm.”
Doubt shook him momentarily. Would he do everything the right way? Would he seem clumsy and inexperienced?
Then he felt her gentle fingers on his member. She guided him to her slick entrance. He pushed into her in one long hot slide, eased by her wetness.
He thrust deep and fast, greedy for the feel of her vagina stroking him. Her words returned to him through a fog—start with a slow, gentle thrusting—but his body demanded otherwise.
He drew back quickly and then thrust again, even harder. She cried out and for a moment he was afraid he’d hurt her, but she tightened her grip on his shoulders and said, “More!”
He took up a fast rhythm, pounding into her quickly. The light slap of his balls hitting her ass stimulated him further. She moved underneath him, her hips arching to capture his member as he thrust inside her. Her moans and cries filled his ears. He plunged into her again and again, wanting to possess her utterly, wanting her to forget everything she’d ever known, except for him.
Her rosy nipples were as hard as tiny pebbles. He sucked on the right one, drawing it into his mouth then circling it with his tongue. Her whimpers increased. Her hands moved down his back then gripped his buttocks, urging him even deeper.
His pleasure swelled and he knew release
would soon overtake him.
Crying out loudly, she ceased moving. Her vagina spasmed around his member. He thrust once more and groaned, a noise that felt like it was torn from his throat.
He poured himself into her willing body, knowing he would never be complete again unless he was with her.
Although many positions are possible for sexual congress, the “male superior” position is the recommended method. It establishes the husband’s natural order in the household and reminds the wife of her duty to submit and surrender. The husband who allows his wife to take the lead in the bedroom may soon find himself henpecked by a female who has forgotten her place.
Professor Woodcock’s Guide to Success and Happiness in Marital Relations (1st edition, 1893)
Vanessa had the oddest desire to cry. Afraid that a weeping woman would disconcert Rob, she turned on her side and pressed her fist to her mouth.
What had started as a casual desire for pleasure had turned into an overwhelming experience. Her entire body felt limp, immeasurably relieved by the cessation of tension, wrung out with the splendid release he’d given her.
She’d never experienced such vigorous lovemaking. Used to her husband’s more leisurely movements, she never would have guessed she’d like it. But she had quickly become caught up in Rob’s swift, hard thrusts. Lost in the moment, she’d tumbled into effortless, overwhelming pleasure.
Rob shifted, aligning himself along her body, his chest hair tickling her back. His lips moved over her shoulder, increasing her desire to weep.
“Good heavens,” he said. “I never knew…”
He ran his palm up and down her arm. Even that simple caress enticed her, made her yearn again for the long slide of his hard cock.
“That was an experience beyond words,” he said.
“So you find the real experience more interesting than researching it?”
“Very much so. You were correct, Vanessa. I needed this demonstration. Now I am no longer a neophyte, but seasoned.”
“Rob, dear—we’ve merely scratched the surface.”
“Truly? I find myself…completely and utterly astonished.”
She turned to face him, unable to suppress a smile. “Now you sound like Professor Woodcock.”
“Hardly surprising, as I am he.”
“No, you’re much nicer. And less pompous.”
His mustache brushed her nipple as he kissed her breast. “I will attempt to sound less pompous in the second edition. And I will certainly correct the part about ladies not feeling pleasure.”
She ran her fingers down his golden chest hair, taking satisfaction in the way his breath hitched.
“I suppose this is utterly selfish of me, but…do you suppose we might perform the act again?” he asked. “Not right away, of course. Perhaps in a few hours, when you have rested?”
“You must leave at five,” she told him. “Annie will return around half-past five to cook dinner. She mustn’t find you here.”
“What would she do?”
She couldn’t repress a shudder. “I cannot say. Perhaps tell my stepfather.”
“Do you dislike him so much? With all the money your wealthy husband must have left you, I’m surprised you haven’t set up your own establishment. Perhaps with an older lady to chaperone you.”
“I have thought of doing that,” she said cautiously. “Or I might marry one of the men my stepfather has chosen for me.”
She felt his whole body stiffen. “Do you wish to marry again?” he asked.
“If the right man presented himself. I do not want to marry a gouty man of seventy, nor a red-faced barber with seven children from three previous wives.”
“Absolutely not,” he said, sounding revolted. “Sweet Vanessa, a woman like you deserves an extraordinary man. A prince.”
“The next time a prince comes to Marble Falls, Ohio, I’ll be sure to arrange an introduction,” she said dryly. Turning on her side, she took his cock firmly in her hand and stroked upward. “Rob, in your book you praise the male superior position. Will you allow me to show you another method of lovemaking that may also please you?”
“Show me anything you like.” He gazed at her with his clear blue eyes. “I am putty in your hands, sweetheart.”
“Not putty, dear. Putty is soft. You are anything but soft.” Her repeated stroking had quickly brought his cock to a most satisfactory degree of hardness. She eyed it lovingly, remembering how wonderful it had felt, filling her channel.
Straddling him, she lowered herself slowly, fitting herself carefully onto his cock. She sighed as his shaft impaled her, watching his face. He gasped, his breath coming fast as she sank all the way down.
“Do you like that?” she inquired softly.
“It’s-it’s indescribable.” He reached out and grasped her hips. She moved up and down. His expression changed, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open. “My goodness, Vanessa, this is sheer heaven.”
Heaven was the perfect word. Was it his size or something more? Perhaps the delight he took in everything she did?
She plunged up and down, feeling her pussy gushing its approval, feeling her climax building. A tiny tickle of pleasure grew and expanded. She rode him without mercy, moving faster when he groaned, when his breath caught, when he palmed her breasts and squeezed. Her climax rose and swelled, centered first on where they were joined, then expanding through her entire being. She closed her eyes, aware of nothing but his body beneath hers and the bursting waves of release flowing through her.
“I don’t want to leave you,” he murmured. “May I see you tomorrow?”
She opened drowsy eyes. “I fear to invite you back. Annie will grumble.”
“I must see you again. Can you go for a drive in my rig? I’ll buy food and we can have a picnic.”
She hesitated, knowing that if her stepfather came to hear of it, he would be furious and arrange punishment. Then her reckless side took over. Where was her life leading her? Soon she would be wed to a man she didn’t love. Or if she left Marble Falls, she would be slaving away giving music lessons, living in a tenement in Cleveland or Akron.
All her choices were poor ones. Perhaps this was the last fun and excitement life would offer her.
So she told him where to meet her the next afternoon.
* * * * *
That evening, Vanessa sank into a daydream as Annie helped her undress for bed.
I want to feel his mouth on my breasts again. Mercy, I love how he stroked my pussy, so gently yet firmly. If he were my husband, I’d ensure we made love every single evening. I’d kiss him and love him and help him with his book.
Alas, such a wonderful man deserves a bride his own age. A sweet, demure virgin. Not a woman so much his senior.
“Ma’am, what happened to your corset?” Annie exclaimed. “I am certain I didn’t lace you up like this!”
Vanessa drew a sharp breath and let the servant pull the corset over her head. “A lace came undone and I had to retie it myself,” she said coolly.
“Ain’t never happened before,” Annie muttered.
Vanessa moved to her trunk. Opening it, she brought out a pretty straw hat trimmed with a feather dyed blue.
“Annie, I find this hat no longer pleases me. Would you like it?”
The servant’s eyes gleamed. “I’ve always been partial to that hat, ma’am. Thank you.”
Vanessa held it just out of her reach. “And you won’t tell my stepfather about the professor’s visit?”
Annie straightened. “I pride myself on keeping a silent tongue, ma’am.”
“See that you do.” Vanessa handed her the hat.
Chapter Three
An unchaperoned couple is a disaster waiting to happen. Nature courses strongly through their veins, arousing temptation. In the vast wild of the outdoors, anything might occur. A single sweet kiss turns into unspeakable desire. A lovely white dove flutters from the safety of her cage and returns…soiled! Mothers, guard your daughters’ purity!
Professor Woodcock’s Guide to Success and Happiness in Marital Relations (1st edition, 1893)
At one o’clock the next afternoon, Rob drove his pair of Clydesdales along the dirt path beside the Cuyahoga River. He wished he had a more dashing equipage—spirited black stallions pulling a phaeton, perhaps. When Vanessa saw his ungainly rig, would she even wish to accompany him?
She deserved the best life had to offer. Elegant clothing, a richly furnished home and fine jewelry. A man who owned no more than a refurbished circus wagon should never have turned his eyes to her.
He considered the words of his favorite poet, Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Was it true? Or would it have been better never to have met her again? The sweet memory of his youthful adoration had been overlaid with their passionate encounter yesterday. When he thought of her after today, it would be with deep regret. He foresaw many sleepless nights, bitterly longing for the beloved who could never be his.
Then he saw a woman standing by the river, clad in a gray walking skirt and a white shirtwaist. A wide-brimmed hat with a veil hid her face, but he was sure it was Vanessa. He knew her by the proud set of her shoulders and the generous curve of her hips, by the way she stood and the way she lifted her head when she heard his rig. Her image was engraved on his heart.
When he reached her, he halted the horses. Aware of the others strolling the park, he gravely tipped his hat to her. “Good afternoon, Mrs. d’Aulaire.”
Her dark eyes darted a mischievous glance at him. “Good afternoon, Professor Woodcock. This is an unexpected pleasure. What a fine day for a drive.”
“Yes, we are fortunate indeed to have such a fine day. Would you care to join me?”
“Thank you for your kind invitation. I believe I will.” She picked up the wicker basket by her side. Grasping the grip on the wagon’s side, she stepped nimbly up to the front seat, settling in beside him.
