by G Scott Gray
She was thinking of such things now, dreamily imagining a sturdy young man lying with her in the ripe corn. Her hand reached down and she gasped as she brushed her fingers against the sensitive pinkness of her lips of love. She locked her chamber door and was about to remove her undergarments when she heard her parents’ door open and then shut in violent fashion. She heard steps approach and a hand turn the handle of her door.
“Mary, Mary,” said her mother. “Why is your door locked? Do you hear me? This is your mother? Please unlock your door this instant and let me in.”
“Yes, mama,” said Mary, putting down her skirts and hurrying to unlock the door.
“Why on earth have you got your door locked?”
“I was afraid of intruders,” said Mary feebly.
“Well be that as it may, we are going to take lunch at the hotel next door. Your father is putting on his great coat and will join us presently.”
“Yes, mama.”
A few seconds later Mr Bennet knocked on the door.
“Are you and Mary ready, my dear?” he said pleasantly. Under the pretense of putting on his great coat he had found one of the interesting bottles he had hidden around his chamber and had taken a couple of hearty sips of red liquid.
“Yes, we are ready, Mr Bennet.”
They proceeded to The Grand and went direct to the dining rooms. Lizzy and Darcy had just finished dining and were taking coffee and enjoying their afternoon together. Mrs Bennet saw them first.
“Why, Lizzy, this is where you’ve been staying. Barley twenty yards from us.”
Mr Darcy put his head in his hands and groaned.
“Mother? Father?” said Lizzy.
“And, Mr Darcy,” said Mrs Bennet, “how wonderful to see you. Have you been ill? You look very pale.”
“Mrs Bennet,” he said coolly, “how delightful. What on earth are you doing here?”
“We have been staying at a wretched place called The Slug. I told your father that I refuse to take another meal their and so decided to come here for lunch. Do you know, Mr Darcy, they put blue mould in the cheese?”
“Stilton?” said Darcy to Mr Bennet. Mr Bennet nodded.
“So here we are. And here you are. Isn’t that fortunate?”
“Indeed,” said Darcy. “But I ask the question again, Mrs Bennet. What are you doing here? In Brighton I mean.”
“We heard that you and Lizzy were coming here on holiday. So, we thought we would join you. To make it more enjoyable for you.”
“Two’s company,” said Mr Bennet with an apologetic shrug, “so Mrs Bennet thought five would be even better.”
“Actually, it’s seven,” said Lizzy.
“Seven?” said Mrs Bennet, “what on earth do you mean?”
“Wickham and Lydia are here.”
“Wickham and Lydia?” said Mrs Bennet.
“It seems as if the gods are smiling upon you, Mr Darcy,” said Mr Bennet with a sympathetic smile.
“You mean Wickham and Lydia invited themselves her?” said Mrs Bennet, with genuine outrage and no sense of irony. “Why that was a little rude of them don’t you think, Mr Bennet?”
“Indeed it was, my dear,” he said with an apologetic grin at Mr Darcy.
“Would you like some claret, Mr Bennet?” said Darcy.
“I would, Mr Darcy.”
“Capital. Lizzy, my love, why don’t you and your mother discuss our very great fortune while your father and I try to find a waiter and bring us all something to drink. Perhaps your mother and Mary would like some elderflower cordial?”
Darcy and Mr Bennet went to find a waiter while Mrs Bennet sat at Lizzy’s table. Darcy found a waiter easily enough and asked him to have a bottle of cordial sent to the three ladies in the dining room and three bottles of claret sent to the small library to which they would presently be going, in order to discuss important matters with his father in law. Darcy gave no indication what these matters might be, but the waiter formed the opinion that they must be important indeed if they required refreshment from three bottles of claret.
A couple of hours later Mr Darcy and Mrs Bennet rejoined the ladies.
“So, Mrs Bennet,” said Darcy, feeling a little more mellow towards his mother in law than he had been prior to his discussion of important matters with Mr Bennet, “how do you like Brighton?”
“We have seen very little of it,” replied the venerable lady, “for we have not left our bed chamber since we arrived.”
That was my plan too, thought Darcy to himself with a glance at his attractive wife.
“No, Mr Darcy,” continued Mrs Bennet, “we have done very little here apart from consume meals. Or in Mr Bennet’s case consume ale and brandy wine.”
“Then you must join us for a brisk walk on the sea front,” said Darcy.
“It’s a little cold for walking outside, don’t you think?” she said.
“Bracing, Mrs Bennet, bracing,” he said.
“I think it’s a capital idea, my dear,” said Mr Bennet with a slight slur. “That’s poetry.”
“Good Lord, your father thinks he’s Mr Wordsworth now,” said Mrs Bennet.
“I think a walk in the fresh sea air would do you good, mother,” said Lizzy.
“Very well then. However, if the sea air affects my poor nerves, then I don’t know what I will do. I really don’t.”
“I know what I’ll do,” said Mr Bennet, miming the act of pouring a large glass of brandy wine and drinking it off quickly.
“Then it’s agreed,” said Darcy. “Let us all put on our coats and meet outside in, shall we say, ten minutes?”
“Shall we say, twenty minutes?” said Mrs Bennet, “for I need to spend a little time before the looking glass to ensure I look my best.”
“Very well, Mrs Bennet, twenty minutes,” said Darcy with a comical little bow.
They all returned to their rooms and mustered outside The Grand twenty minutes later. Mrs Bennet was wearing Mr Bennet’s pea green coat. She had a comforter around her neck and another under her chin and around her bonnet to ensure it was not blown off by the strong wind. They set off down the beach, a few yards away from the glistening sea. Their progress was slow, chiefly due to Mrs Bennet stopping every few minutes and putting her hand on her bonnet to ensure it was still on her head.
After an hour, during which Mrs Bennet was convinced she had almost been attacked by a large lobster, they returned to The Grand.
“Would you like to see our bed chamber, mother?” said Lizzy.
“As you wish,” said Mrs Bennet.
They walked down the corridor towards Lizzy and Darcy’s suite. As they passed a bed chamber, they heard the rhythmic sound of bed springs moving up and down. It was very loud, and Darcy and Lizzy realized it was coming from Wickham and Lydia’s room.
“What is that noise?” said Mrs Bennet as they passed one of the bed chambers.
“It is probably somebody testing the bed, Mrs Bennet,” said Darcy.
He and Lizzy hurried to their own bed chamber and unlocked the door. Mrs Bennet went in first and looked around in wonder.
“You have a very nice suite,” said Mr Bennet amiably.
“It’s five times bigger than ours,” said Mrs Bennet, rather less amiably.
Mr and Mrs Bennet and Mary were shown around the entire suite and were suitably impressed.
Mary looked up at the bedroom ceiling, decorated in baroque style with satyrs, cherubs and young maidens.
“What a beautiful ceiling,” she said.
“Yes,” said Lizzy saucily, “I’ve been looking at it for some time since I’ve been here.”
“Well,” said Darcy after a few minutes, “perhaps we should get you back to your own rooms. Where did you say you were staying?”
“At The Slug,” said Mr Bennet.
“Oh dear. Oh well, I’m sure it’s very pleasant.”
They left the suite and returned along the corridor. The loud rhythmic noise could still be heard from Wickham an
d Lydia’s room.
“I must say,” grumbled Mrs Bennet, “they are taking an awful long time testing the bed in there.”
Darcy and Lizzy hurried them to The Slug and made brief farewells.
“Perhaps we will see you later today? Or tomorrow?” said Mrs Bennet.
“Perhaps,” called Darcy over his shoulder as they went back to The Grand.
As soon as they were inside, Lizzy took Darcy in her arms and kissed him.
“I am sorry, Fitzwilliam. I had no idea they would be coming. Is there any way I can make it up to you?”
“Perhaps you can. I know it sounds odd because I detest the man so much, but I would like to be doing now what Wickham is doing in his own room.”
“You mean testing the bed with my sister Lydia?” said Lizzy impishly.
“No. You know what I mean. I would like to go back to our suite and make love to you, Mrs Darcy.”
“I think I would like that too, Mr Darcy.”
They passed Wickham’s chamber once more, and still the rhythmic noise of bed springs going up and down could be heard from within. For Wickham had been making love to Lydia with great power for the last twenty minutes. It was very straightforward love making, in the missionary position, but very passionate with an abundance of kissing and whispers of love and long, adoring gazing into each other’s eyes. They were now both approaching climax and Lydia was biting down on her lips and calling out her husband’s name as his manhood, hugely erect, slid in and out of her tight and juicy little pussy. With a grimace and a cry, almost a laugh, of satisfaction, Wickham spurted deep inside his wife and made her glow with happiness. They lay on their backs and stared at the ceiling for some time before bathing together in the little bath tub.
Darcy and Lizzy returned to their suite. Lizzy took Darcy’s hand and led him to the bed chamber. Without a word she looked at him directly and unfastened his breeches, very slowly, one button at a time. When they were sufficiently loose she pulled them down, a little at a time. She pulled them all the way down and he kicked them off. She took his undergarments by the waistband and tugged them down, over his strong thighs and past his knees. He stepped out of them and stood before her, his erection as strong and powerful as she had ever seen. She kissed the tip then put it a little way in her mouth and sucked, gently, teasingly. When he began to breathe quickly and moan in earnest, she stopped.
She stood up and undressed for him. First her dress, then her lacy underwear and corset. She put a finger between her legs and drew it all the way up her pink lips. She was very wet and she put the finger to his mouth so he could taste her arousal. This inflamed him further and she knew she wanted him, hard and urgent. She turned to the bed and bent over. It was the perfect height and her breasts rested on the thick quilt. She wiggled her bottom a little. He needed no further encouragement and strode to her, overwhelmed with desire. He took her buttocks in his hands and thrust his manhood between her lips of love with ease, sliding deep inside her wetness. He drove his hips back and forth, pounding her sweet sex from behind with his powerful erection, slapping his thighs against her bottom and making her groan with ecstatic pleasure.
“Oh, don’t stop, my love,” she moaned, “for that is so good it makes me want to cry.”
“I don’t ever want to stop, Lizzy, for you are so beautiful and so pleasing to me.”
After a short time, he stopped and turned her onto her back. He relished the touch of her body beneath him as her loved her. So aroused was Mr Darcy that he felt the approach of his climactic moment after only a few minutes. He managed to stave it off by thinking about Mrs Bennet walking on the beach a few hours ago. He thought how she had fallen over face first into a puddle of salty water, how she had screamed when she put her foot on a dead jellyfish, how she had stood looking at the waves and had her fine new shoes soaked when she was not quick enough to retreat from a large wave. Every time Darcy felt his arousal become too strong he would think about Mrs Bennet. For he was an unselfish man and wanted to give his wife full satisfaction before his climax rendered him flacid and useless to her (for around twenty minutes anyway).
But for all that he was no less passionate, and Lizzy felt the full force of his love, not only in the hard, fast, thrusting betwixt her legs, nor the fondling and licking and sucking of her marvelous breasts, nor the kissing of her neck, her lips and her ears. But she also felt it in the loving warmth of his smiles and his looks into her eyes, so full of meaning even though no words were spoken.
He took her ankles in his hands and lifted her legs into the air, high above her head. In this manner he was able to penetrate her more deeply and enjoy a perfect view of her beautiful sex as he made love to her with greater and greater urgency. Finally, he could restrain himself no more and felt the final moment of ecstasy build rapidly inside and with one huge thrust he released himself in her and as she sensed his hot fluid within, she shared his climax with her own; long, hard and powerful. Afterwards, lying happy in each other’s arms, they drifted quickly into blissful sleep.
In their little room in The Slug, Mr and Mrs Bennet talked on the bed.
“It’s been a pleasant day, hasn’t it, my dear?” said Mr Bennet cheerfully. “After all we met with Lizzy and Mr Darcy.”
“I didn’t like all those horrid creatures on the sand, Mr Bennet. Nasty things like fish and lobsters and jellyfish. They all seemed to make a bee line for me. Why do you think that was?”
“I really don’t know, my dear.”
“My poor nerves are in a fearful state, Mr Bennet.”
“Is there anything I can do to calm you, my love?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“As I recall, when we were first married, before we had our children you would let me comfort you in bed for a while. In fact that’s the main reason we had our children.”
“You mean marital relations, Mr Bennet?”
“It’s been a while, Mrs Bennet.”
“And is that my fault? You know how tired I am looking after your daughters and trying to arrange advantageous marriages for them.”
“I know, my dear, I understand…” said Mr Bennet tactfully.
“Very well, you may have your way with me. Understand though that I am only doing it to fulfill my wifely duties.”
“Of course, my dear.”
Mr Bennet watched as his wife undressed. She removed her corset and her large, fulsome breasts tumbled out. She took off her dress and removed her silk bloomers and lay on the bed, her legs open for him. He looked at her plump belly and the mysterious pink opening beneath. Although she could be a difficult woman at times, there were certain compensations thought Mr Bennet. Her body was ripe and she still gave him great pleasure in the bed chamber.
“How would you like me, Mr Bennet?” she said, “on my knees or on my back?”
“On your knees I think, my dear.”
“Very well. But be careful. Remember what happened when your…er…manhood slipped a little and entered the wrong place.”
“You said you liked it,” he said.
“I did but it was still a shock.”
“I’ll be careful,” he said, removing his undergarments and walking up slowly behind her as she lay on the bed on all fours, her plump bottom raised up.
The next morning Mrs Bennet seemed more cheerful than usual and suggested they have an early breakfast for she had a large appetite. As they walked to the dining room, Mr Bennet whistled a jaunty little tune. They knocked on Mary’s door but there was no reply.
“She must be asleep,” said Mrs Bennet. “Nevertheless, let us go to breakfast, Mr Bennet, for I am rather hungry.”
Unknown to her, Mary was not asleep. Instead she was enjoying a few quick minutes of solo love, skillfully using her fingers to rub the rosebud of flesh at the top of her sex, tweaking it between finger and thumb, easing the ache inside as she imagined saucy acts of love between couples she knew. She imagined Jane and Mr Bingley, Wickham and Lydia and, most of all, Darcy and Li
zzy. All three couples enjoying marital relations – and with some force. She did not of course think about her mother and father, because she always assumed that they did not make love together and never had, despite the evidence of five children. She did not know that the previous night Mr Bennet had taken Mrs Bennet from behind. His manhood had indeed slipped and entered the wrong place and Mrs Bennet had liked it very much.
In the dining room of The Slug, Mrs Bennet ate an enormous breakfast. She did not make any complaints, except to briefly state that the sausages were on the small side.
“How are you feeling, my dear?” said Mr Bennet.
“Quite well, Mr Bennet, thank you. A little sore perhaps, but otherwise quite well.”
A few minutes later Mary joined them at the table.
“Hello, Mary,” said her mother, “were you asleep? We knocked on your door but there was no reply.”
“Sorry, mother,” said Mary, “yes I was asleep.”
Mary smiled to herself. Just five minutes earlier she had brought herself to a strong and powerful climax with her fingers, imagining Darcy and Lizzy together at the very moment her sex broke into wave after wave of bliss. Then she had dressed herself very quickly and hurried to the dining room.
“Juice, Mary?” said Mrs Bennet.
“Yes, rather a lot,” said Mary, dreamily thinking about how wet she had been between her legs.
“What?” said Mrs Bennet.
“Sorry,” said Mary, suddenly aware of what she had just said, “I mean, yes please, I would like some apple juice.”
Her mother poured her a glass of juice from an earthenware jug.
“What shall we do today, Mr Bennet?” said Mrs Bennet.
“What would you like to do, my dear?”
“Firstly, I would like some more breakfast.”
Mr Bennet beckoned the waiter. A few minutes later he brought another plate, piled high with food.
