Darcy and Lizzy's Sexy Adventures

by G Scott Gray

  DARCY AND LIZZY’S SEXY ADVENTURES

  PRIDE AND PREJUDICE EROTIC VARIATIONS: VOLUME 3

  BY

  G SCOTT GRAY

  Text copyright © 2019 G Scott Gray

  All Rights Reserved

  Lizzy and Darcy are married now and are enjoying each other’s company in and out of the bed chamber.

  Lydia and Mr Wickham are also an energetic young couple enjoying vigorous relations together.

  Mr and Mrs Collins are also married, although their relations are less vigorous and less energetic.

  Kitty is living happily with Caroline Bingley and Jane and Mr Bingley seem the perfect couple.

  Like most couples however, all of them wish to take their relationship to the next level.

  How do they spice up their relations in the bed chamber (and out of it with hot fun on holiday, at Halloween and at the coach park. They also have sexy relations with cougars and a shemale)?

  Find out in this third bundle of erotic novelettes based on Jane Austen’s classic novel.

  Contains sexually explicit material.

  Contents

  EXOTIC HOLIDAY LOVE

  SEXY HALLOWEEN LOVE

  SEXY FUN WITH COUGARS

  HOT FUN WITH OTHER COUPLES IN THE COACH PARK

  WICKHAM AND LYDIA HAVE SEXY FUN WITH A SHEMALE

  EXOTIC HOLIDAY LOVE

  It is a truth universally acknowledged that a married man with a pretty young wife will enjoy marital relations more often when he is on his holidays than at any other time. Sometimes twice in one day.

  Mr Wickham and his wife Lydia (formerly Bennet) lay in bed one Sunday morning. Mr Wickham had proposed that they miss church that morning and enjoy an hour or so of connubial bliss. As Mr Collins would be giving the sermon and as Mrs Wickham always enjoyed her husband’s romantic attentions, it took very little to persuade her. Afterwards she lay happily in bed, propped up by pillows, sipping coffee and eating warm rolls. She liked making love to her husband and she liked having breakfast afterwards, warm and comfortable in bed.

  Wickham got out of bed and stood naked at the window. Lydia liked it when he did that because it gave her an excellent view of his excellent backside.

  “Georgie,” she purred, “will you always love me?”

  He turned to her and grinned.

  “If you always let me do that to you, my pet, then of course I will.”

  “You are naughty, George Wickham.”

  “That’s how you like me though isn’t it, Mrs Wickham?”

  “Mrs Wickham,” said Lydia with a kind of wonder. “I never thought I would become Mrs Wickham.”

  “Neither did I, my love, neither did I,” said Wickham under his breath.

  “It seems so recent. How long have we been man and wife, George?”

  “Nearly a year I should think,” he said carelessly.

  “Then it will be our anniversary soon.”

  “Which one,” said Wickham with a chuckle.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, my pet, which anniversary. Do you mean the anniversary of our wedding day or do you mean the anniversary of the first time we indulged in marital relations? Even though we weren’t married. For most people it’s the same day, because most people discover the joys of making love only on their wedding night. We rather jumped the gun though didn’t we, Mrs Wickham?”

  Lydia considered this. Some people, including her sister Mary, were of the opinion that it was shameful for a woman to get married having already given up her greatest gift to a man. Some people thought it was essential for her good reputation for a woman to remain pure and virtuous until her wedding day. Lydia could not help smiling though when she remembered the first night she and Wickham spent together. There was nothing pure about that night. Or the following morning. And, thought Lydia, it did not in any way detract from her wedding night. There was nothing pure about that either.

  She looked again at her husband, still looking abstractedly out of the window.

  “Come back to bed, George,” she said.

  He turned around. She glanced down at his manhood. Although flaccid it was magnificent. Indeed, all this talk of love had caused it to become engorged and weightier as it swung between her husband’s legs as he came back to bed.

  “Why, George,” she said playfully, “you appear to be a little…excited.”

  “You excite me, my love,” he said. He was in earnest too, for as much as he felt his bachelorhood had been taken from him (by the redoubtable Mr Darcy among others), there were advantages in being married. The main advantage being that he could make love to his handsome young wife most days. Sometimes twice.

  He slid into the large bed and embraced her. He kissed her tenderly on the lips and ran his hand down her side and let it rest on her thigh. His touch made her body shiver and spasm. He looked into her eyes and cupped her breast in one hand while he lightly brushed against the lips of her secret place with the other. She gasped with pleasure and knew that she wanted her husband to make love to her, his large manhood thrusting deep inside her as she lay with her legs parted and raised in the air.

  She touched his member and was thrilled to discover how hard it was. She put her hand around its pleasing girth and move her hand up and down the shaft once or twice, causing Wickham to groan with pleasure.

  “How would you like me, Georgie,” she whispered with a coy little smile, looking deep into his eyes.

  “From behind I think, my love. If you don’t object.”

  Before she could object, or even reply, he flipped her over onto her stomach and pulled her up onto all fours. She would not have objected in any case, for she loved it when her husband made love to her in what the local villagers called, ‘the style of the doggy’. She tingled in anticipation as Wickham shuffled up behind her on his knees. She thrilled as the tip of his member pressed against her buttocks and she pulled her legs apart a little more, naked and vulnerable, offering the secret place betwixt her legs to him and her bottom too if he were so minded.

  He grasped her buttocks and slid forward on his knees so that the very end of his manhood touched the threshold of her womanhood. With one movement, which was powerful as well as graceful, he slid the entire length of his manhood inside her velvety wetness.

  “Oh, George,” she groaned, “that is exquisite. I do love it when you enter my womanhood.”

  He stopped for a moment.

  “Your womanhood, my pet?”

  “Yes,” she said, “you know I don’t like those crude Anglo Saxon words to describe certain parts of my body.”

  “Well, it is the nineteenth century, Lydia. And we do have the regent on the throne. Or sometimes a mad king.”

  “I know, George, but some of those words the farm hands use are so horrid.”

  “What words, my love?” he said teasingly.

  “You know very well what word. Now, please love me as you were just now.”

  “With what, my love?” he said, continuing to tease her.

  “With your manhood. Your masculine member.”

  “My cock you mean?”

  “Please don’t use that crude word.”

  “Very well, Lydia.”

  “And George?”

  “Yes, my pet?”

  “Love me the way I like it.”

  “Hard and rough you mean?”

  “Yes, that’s what I mean.”

  “It would be my pleasure, Lydia. My very great pleasure,” he said.

  He moved his hips back and forth with passion and tenderness, thrusting himself inside her with long, slow strokes, making her moan and cry out. He thrust harder and faster, his thighs slapping against her buttocks with a loud
snap, like the sound of a slipper being hit against a surface, any surface; a floor, a wall, a chair, a wife’s bottom perhaps. As he loved her harder and faster she abandoned herself more and more to their love making.

  “Yes, George, love me like that. I love your manhood pounding my secret womanly place. You’re so hard and I’m so wet.”

  “Indeed, my love,” he said and loved her harder still.

  In the throes of passion, she cried out, not knowing any more what she was saying.

  “Oh, God, yes, George. Harder. I want to feel your big cock deep inside me. All the way, deep inside my cunt.”

  “Are you close to your climactic moment?” he said.

  “Yes, yes, I’m going to cum. Harder, George, please.”

  “My pleasure, my love,” he said. He pushed her legs further apart with his knees and felt the familiar rising sensation and knew he would spurt his seed into her any moment. He was now past the point from which there is no return and slapped her buttocks hard with his open palm making her wince and gasp.

  “George, don’t stop, I’m so close.”

  “As am I.”

  He pushed yet deeper inside her, the great bulbous end of his manhood stretching her velvet tunnel of love, as though exploring every part of her sex. She reached the apotheosis of her love, steadily at first and then with a great rush of pure physical bliss, heightened a few moments later when her husband gave a loud, satisfied grunt and shot his thick, creamy essence inside her. She loved the sensation of his hot seed against her satin walls of flesh, whence, when he slowly withdrew his member, it dribbled down her thigh onto the marital bed.

  She turned over onto her back and pulled him down next to her.

  “Oh, George, darling,” she rhapsodized, “that was heavenly.”

  “I concur indeed, my love. You have the knowledge and ability to please your husband.”

  “Do I please you, George?”

  “Indeed you do, Lydia.”

  “I like to please you,” she said

  “I like you to please me.”

  “And do you like to please me also? Outside of the bed chamber I mean,” she said with a coquettish smile.

  Wickham gave a short little laugh, almost a snort.

  “Very well, Lydia,” he said, “how can I please you? Outside of the bed chamber.”

  “Well, as it is our anniversary - it doesn’t really matter which one – I thought it we should celebrate it in some manner.”

  “What sort of manner were you thinking of?”

  “An exotic holiday. Brighton perhaps?”

  “Brighton?” said Wickham, genuinely impressed, “that is exotic. I understand they have a beach of sand there and bathing machines which go straight into the sea. Why even our mad king likes to visit Brighton. Lydia, my love, I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

  She threw her arms around his neck with delight.

  “Oh, George, George, that’s marvelous. I can’t wait to tell mama.”

  Wickham stopped and withdrew from her embrace.

  “You’re going to tell your mother?”

  “I’m going to tell everybody. Mother, father, Lizzy, Jane, Kitty and Mary. Why, I’ll tell Uncle Gardiner as well.”

  Wickham groaned.

  “Tell them by all mean,” he said, “but pray do not invite them to join us. I would like to have you all to myself. You know how I like us to be naked together in our hotel room. We can’t very well do that if your mother might come in without knocking, can we?”

  “Have no fear, George. I have no intention of inviting my mother and father, or my sisters.”

  “I’m very glad to hear it,” he said. Despite her assurances, however, he had his doubts.

  “Good,” she said, “now com and kiss me.”

  H kissed her and made her squeal in delight as he gave her a little smack on her naked bottom.

  “Now, let’s get some breakfast,” he said.

  In another part of the country, in a great house somewhere in Derbyshire, Lizzy and Darcy were enjoying a sunny Sunday morning. They had woken early and made love, and were now eating a delicious breakfast together in bed.

  “How long do we have before the service begins?” said Darcy.

  “The service starts at ten thirty, but we should make sure we arrive at church ten minutes before. You know how Mr Collin reacts when people arrive late. Glares at them with real venom.”

  “Yes, I know he does. We should finish our breakfast and then put on our Sunday clothes.”

  “I hope his sermon isn’t too tedious today,” said Lizzy.

  “Oh, you know Mr Collins. No doubt he will be warning us against enjoying the pleasures of the flesh.”

  “Well, he can say what he likes,” said Lizzy. “I enjoy the pleasures of the flesh and have no intention of giving them up.”

  “I enjoy it too, provide it is your flesh whose pleasures I’m enjoying,” said Darcy gallantly.

  Lizzy gave a delighted little laugh.

  “You’re very sweet, Fitzwilliam.”

  “Would you like another roll?”

  “In bed? Do we have time?”

  “No, I mean would you like another warm bread roll?”

  “Oh, I see. No thank you.”

  “To answer your question,” he said, consulting his pocket watch, “we have around ten minutes before we need to get ready for church.”

  She looked at him and they both smiled, conspiratorially as lovers often do.

  “Time for a quick ten minutes of love, do you think?” she said.

  He nodded and took her into his arms. He carried her over to the bed and laid her down gently.

  In order to save time, he lifted up her nightdress while she pulled it down the top to reveal her breasts to him. He untied his silk dressing gown and let it slip to the floor. Lizzy gave a gasp of surprise and delight as she saw his manhood hard with arousal. She parted her legs for him, and he gazed down at her, his large member throbbing as it grew harder still at the sight of her secret place of love. Lizzy tingled with the beautiful anticipation of his manhood penetrating her pretty flower of love and bestowing waves of pleasure over and over.

  Instead he put his head between her legs and, with powerful strokes of his tongue, licked her all the way from her sweet bottom to the very top, lifting her pretty hood and flicking the pink little rosebud of flesh with the tip of his tongue. At that moment it was as though she adored him more than ever as he sent pulses of bliss through her body. She took her breasts in her hands and lightly squeezed her nipples.

  Darcy continued his attentions, relishing the musky taste of her arousal and did not stop until she was about to reach the summit of her bliss. Then he stopped.

  “Oh, Fitzwilliam, my love, why have you stopped?”

  He did not reply. Instead he pulled her legs further apart and placed his manhood, purple with desire, against the lips of her womanhood. He lay atop her and smiled warmly with both his mouth and eyes. He kissed her lovingly, all the time the tip of his erection nudging her sweet wetness, taking care not to penetrate her. Not yet at least.

  They kissed with love as well as desire in their eyes. At last she could stand it no more.

  “Oh, Fitzwilliam, love me,” she pleaded, “make love to me, I want you inside me, deep inside me, oh please my darling.”

  He relented and eased himself fully inside the satin like walls of her love. He thrust with big, powerful strokes, raising himself up on his hands and never once shifting his gaze from her beautiful, imploring eyes. Harder and faster he made love to her. He whispered to her, telling her how much he loved her and how he had always wanted her. She responded and told him he brought her nothing but happiness and that his love in the bed chamber brought her close to heaven.

  It was quick and hard, but no less loving for that. They climaxed together and afterwards lay naked together on the bed, comfortable with themselves and each other but completely satisfied, happy and as deeply in love as ever.

  “Mrs
Darcy,” he said, “I never thought such exquisite bliss were possible.”

  “Nor I, Fitzwilliam.”

  “However, now that we have breakfasted and tasted the pleasures of the flesh – twice – we really should get dressed and make our way to church. Though perhaps I should have one more cup of coffee if I am going to sit though Mr Collins’ sermon.”

  She playfully poked him and laughed.

  They bathed quickly and dressed themselves in elegant Sunday clothes. Their carriage was ordered, and they made their way to church, just outside the gates of their fine estate. The bells swung lazily back and forth, calling worshipers to prayer. As the carriage came to a stop, they saw Mr and Mrs Collins standing at the door of the church ready to welcome them.

  “I’m so glad Mr Collins took the position as vicar at the church,” said Darcy with a grin as he helped Lizzy from the carriage.

  “Good morning, Mr Darcy. Good morning, Mrs Darcy,” said Mr Collins with a comical little bow.

  Darcy bowed elaborately and took of his hat.

  “Good day, Mr Collins. I trust your sermon will be entertaining and educational.”

  “Educational, certainly,” said Mr Collins. “But I would say it is filled with moral purpose rather than entertaining.”

  “Well, no matter,” said Darcy, “my wife and I entertained each other in the bed chamber this morning.”

  “What?” said Mr Collins, flustered, “in the bed chamber? What?”

  Darcy and Lizzy walked into the church, past Mr and Mrs Colllins.

  “Twice,” said Lizzy to Mrs Collins with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

  They took their seats at the front of the church and the service duly began. Not surprisingly, given that Mr Collins was vicar, it was a very dry service and worshipers looked around at the walls, the windows and the roof as prayers were said and hymns were sung. After an hour Mr Collins went to the lectern to deliver his sermon.

  “Good people,” he said sternly, “I look upon you with love in my heart. You are my flock and I am your poor shepherd, chosen to lead you to the paths of righteousness and offer you the comfort and compassion of the church…”