by G Scott Gray
“Lydia met a soldier today. Perhaps he wold be acceptable. What was his name?”
“I’m not sure. We’ll ask Lydia.”
They called Lydia into the bed chamber and talked about the young soldier she had met.
“His name is Wickham. Mr Wickham. He’s very handsome, around twenty three I believe.”
“Twenty three?” said Mrs Bennet with a little lick of her lip. “And would it be possible to meet this young man?”
“I suppose it would,” said Lydia, a little puzzled.
“You see,” said Mr Bennet, “we wanted to find out, at first hand as it were, what the situation currently is across the English Channel. Your mother and I would like to know what he thinks of Napoleon.”
“I see,” said Lydia. “I’m sure he would not mind.”
“Well,” said Mrs Bennet eagerly, “when do you think he can come and visit?”
“I could go into the village and ask him to come.”
“Excellent, daughter. Can you go now?”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
“Well, yes, I suppose I can,” said Lydia.
“Off you go then, dear,” said her mother.
Lydia put on her shawl and bonnet and hurried to the village. The militia had been there for a week and would be leaving in two days. She found Wickham and asked him if they might have a private interview.
“Why what is it, Miss Bennet?”
“My mother and father would like to speak to you, Mr Wickham. They are interested in the situation on the continent and would like to discuss matters with you, particularly about Napoleon.”
“What do they want to know? Napoleon is a little man with a big hat, that’s all.”
“Oh, just general things, I think. My mother was particularly eager to speak to you. I think she was impressed by the fact that you are twenty three. I don’t really know why.”
Mr Wickham put two and two together. He had a great fondness for women and was very partial to cougars or MWILFs (Mother with whom I’d like to Fornicate), older women who were plump and handsome and knew what they liked in the bed chamber and who bestowed their favours on men significantly younger than themselves. He readily agreed to meet Lydia’s mother.
“And father,” said Lydia.
“Of course, your father too,” said Wickham.
They went back to the cottage at once. Mr and Mrs Bennet, especially Mrs Bennet, greeted Lydia and Wickham, especially Wickham, warmly.
“Good day, Mrs Bennet, good day Mr Bennet,” he said.
“Good day, Mr Wickham,” they both said.
Mrs Bennet whispered to her husband.
“You need to get rid of our daughters for a couple of hours, Mr Bennet,” she said.
“I’ll do my best, Mrs Bennet.”
Mrs Bennet asked her daughters to consult with their father in the bed chamber.
“I have received a message from Uncle Gardiner,” he said. “He says he has run out of brandy and has asked if I would send him a few bottles. Therefore, I would like you all to deliver them to him.”
“All of us, father?” said Lizzy. “Surely it doesn’t need five of us to carry one or two bottles of brandy.”
“It’s Uncle Gardiner, remember,” said Mr Bennet. “I think it will need all five of you.”
“Very well, father.”
The five Bennet sisters put on their bonnets and shawls and went to say farewell to their mother.
“We are going to deliver some brandy, mother,” said Jane.
“All five of you?” said Mrs Bennet.
“It’s for Uncle Gardiner.”
“Oh. Well give him my regards.”
“Yes, mother. It’s some way to Uncle Gardiner’s house. We’ll probably be a couple of hours.”
“Make it three,” said Mrs Bennet.
“In the meantime,” said Mr Bennet, “we will entertain Mr Wickham.”
Wickham and Mrs Bennet, accompanied by Mr Bennet on crutches, watched as they walked across the field, each of them carrying two bottles of brandy.
“I wonder what Uncle Gardiner will say when our daughters arrive with ten bottles of brandy,” said Mrs Bennet.
“I don’t think he’ll mind,” said Mr Bennet.
Wickham drew his arm around Mrs Bennet’s ample waist.
“Would you like to see our bed chamber, Mr Wickham,” she said.
“Why, yes, Mrs Bennet, I think I would.”
They went into the bed chamber. Mr Bennet followed on his crutches and sat down in an armchair as Wickham put his arms around Mrs Bennet. He drew her to him and kissed her on the lips. Her breathing became fast and shallow as his strong arms embraced her warmly and his hands moved down and stroked her bottom. He pulled up the hem of her dress and put his hands inside her lacy undergarments, squeezing her cool, pale buttocks with his horny hands. She gasped, her eyes closed, eager for his touch, eager for him to ease the ache inside her resulting from the fact that her husband had been unable to make love to her since he broke his leg.
She unfastened her dress and let it fall to the floor. Mr Wickham knelt down before her and loosened the strings of her underwear. He slowly pulled them down and smiled with delight as he saw her attractive, mature womanhood, a pretty smattering of hair above. He put his head forward and kissed the pad of plump flesh just below her belly and made her pant with desire. He teased her with his tongue, inching it just inside the soft folds of her pink lips. Mr Bennet looked on eagerly from his armchair.
Mr Wickham stood up and led Mrs Bennet to the bed. He unfastened her brassiere and her breasts tumbled out. She was a generously built woman and Wickham admired her full, ripe bosom. He took her breasts in his hands and kneaded them together and sucked the nipples tenderly until they became hard and proud in his mouth. He smiled at her.
“Would you like to lie on the bed, Mrs Bennet?”
She did not reply but got on the bed and lay on her back, naked. She looked at Wickham and parted her legs, giving him a delightful view of the secret place betwixt her legs, red and glistening with desire.
“You are still a very attractive woman,” said Wickham, gazing at her sex.
Mrs Bennet blushed charmingly.
“Then you wish to make love to me?” she said.
“I most certainly do. With the kind permission of your husband.”
Wickham and Mrs Bennet looked at Mr Bennet. He nodded his permission, as well as his eager wish. He became aroused at the thought that his wife was about to cuckold him with a younger man, as evidenced by the bulge in his breeches.
“Splendid,” said Mrs Bennet. “Now, Mr Wickham, perhaps you will now remove those tight white breeches and release your fine manhood. I trust you are suitably erect?”
“Well, we shall see, shan’t we,” he said.
He unfastened the buttons of his trousers and slowly drew them down. As he removed his linen undergarments, Mrs Bennet watched with wonder as his manhood sprang up, proud and hard as teak. She licked her lips and opened her legs a little wider. Mr Wickham walked slowly towards her, allowing her to relish the full frontal view of his strong, young, powerful body, fully naked.
He lay down beside her and looked her ripe body all over, from her handsome face to her white throat, her full, wobbling breasts, her smooth belly, the glories of her secret womanhood, her firm thighs and curvy legs. He ran his finger all the way up, from her pretty little toes to the sensitive area behind her knees, to her twitching thighs and from the patch of skin between her bottom and her sex.
He rolled onto her with an easy shift of his body. He smiled at her in a mechanical sort of way before nudging the mysterious opening of her arousal with the bulbous head of his rampant member. He thrust forward with one graceful move of his hips and slid himself fully inside her, relishing the joyous feeling of her silk like walls of warm, fluid flesh. He made love to her and they kissed each other in the throes of their passion. Mrs Bennet arched her back, loving the pressure of his long, hard
manhood in her velvet tunnel.
“Oh, Mr Wickham,” she said, “that is divine. You feel so good inside me.”
“Mrs Bennet,” he replied with a glittering smile, “you are most ripe and firm.”
“Thank you. Are you enjoying yourself, Mr Bennet?” she said.
“Yes, thank you, my dear.”
Mr Bennet had removed his white breeches and watched, intrigued and excited as his wife made love to a much younger man. He stroked his member, his hand sliding up and down the full length of his shaft. He did not think he would enjoy being cuckolded but to his surprise he found it a very erotic experience.
Mrs Bennet, now in the throes of passion as Mr Wickham loved her with real vigour and force, put the palm of her hand on his smooth manly chest. To his surprise he was moved by her gesture and wished to please her with his love making. He kissed her as he made love to her, tenderly but with passionate too. He lifted himself up on his arms, his hands braced on the mattress and shifted the angle of his love. He thrust back and forth with deep, powerful strokes, delighted as her heavy breasts swung back and forth in rhythm to their love making.
He pulled himself up onto his knees and grasped her ankles and lifted her legs high above her head, loving her more deeply and looking down to marvel as his member went in and out of her juicy pussy. She was becoming more and more excited and knew that the handsome Mr Wickham would soon take her to her climactic moment with long, deep thrusts of his large member. She squeezed her bountiful breasts together between his hands to the delight of Mr Wickham as he looked down from above.
“You are most manly and forceful, Mr Wickham,” she said.
“And you are soft and flexible, dear lady,” he said.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Mr Bennet?” she said.
“Very much, my dear,” he said, as he moved his hand up and down his erect shaft, highly aroused by seeing his wife taken by a younger man, enjoying his cuckoldry.
“I am glad,” she said.
“I am getting very close, my dear,” he said, “and will spurt forth very soon.”
“Sadly, I cannot see you, Mr Bennet.”
Gallantly, Mr Wickham came to her assistance. He withdrew from her and turned her over onto all fours so that she was facing her husband, her head a foot or so from him, as he sat in the armchair.
Wickham moved around and knelt behind her. She squealed as he gave her backside a couple of playful taps. He grasped her buttocks and eased his rampant member slowly inside her secret place. He made love to her from behind, his strokes long and slow at first.
“Mmm, that is most pleasing, Mr Wickham, please love me faster, harder.”
“Of course, Mrs Bennet,” he said.
He did as he was bidden and thrust back and forth with more force and speed.
Mr and Mrs Bennet could now see each other’s faces. They smiled at each other, enjoying each other’s enjoyment. Mr Bennet moved his armchair a little closer and Mrs Bennet shuffled forward on her knees. Her mouth was now inches from his erect manhood. She moved her head yet closer and opened her mouth.
“I wish to take you in my mouth, Mr Bennet,” she said.
“But, my dear,” he said, “remember what the physician said.”
“The physician be damned.”
She moved her head forward again and the head of his manhood into his mouth. He sucked him gently while Mr Wickham loved her forcefully from behind, his thighs slapping against her generous buttocks. He leaned his head over a little in order that he could grin at Mr Bennet. Mr Bennet looked up and grinned back, as all three enjoyed a marvellous spit roast.
They achieved a wonderful rhythm of love. Mr Wickham thrust hard inside Mrs Bennet and her head bobbed back and forth as her husband’s member, hard as iron, slid in and out of her mouth.
Mrs Bennet’s moans and gasps became louder and more urgent. Mr Bennet knew from experience that she was rapidly approaching the exquisite moment of culmination.
“You are getting close I think, my dear,” said Mr Bennet.
She couldn’t reply for her mouth was full of hard male flesh. Instead she nodded her head and made a muffled sound of verification.
“Your wife is about to come?” said Mr Wickham.
“Oh, yes, I can usually tell.”
“Then I think we should try to join her, don’t you think?”
“Why, yes, that would be splendid.”
They stopped talking and concentrated on their love, all of them trying to coordinate their orgasm. Mr Wickham grasped Mrs Bennet’s buttocks and thrust hard and fast, deep inside her. This had the effect of forcing her head to bob back and forth, sucking her husband faster and faster.
Mr Wickham’s climax rose inside his orbs of love and spread quickly through his loins. He gave a great thrust and his hot seed rushed from his loins and through his large member, spurting forth deep inside Mrs Bennet. She felt the warmth flood her velvet walls and this pushed her over the edge and her orgasm exploded inside her with great and wonderful force. At the same time, she felt her husband’s manhood twitch and thicken briefly and then his creamy, salty essence spurted in her mouth, all the way to the back of her throat. She swallowed it all with a little laugh of pleasure.
Mr Wickham continued to thrust, more jerkily so now that he had attained his apotheosis. Mrs Bennet’s tunnel of love continued to contract and relax around his member as her own climax came down from its heights of ecstasy. She smiled with bliss at her husband, a little of his seed spilling from her mouth over her lips and chin.
Eventually Mr Wickham pulled back. He slapped her backside a couple of times again and lay down on his back, spent but languidly happy. Mrs Bennet lay beside him, touching his member, becoming flaccid but still large and heavy with engorgement.
Mr Bennet smiled at them both. He was very grateful to Mr Wickham. Not only had he given his (Mr Bennet’s) wife great pleasure, and his wife’s pleasure was very important to him, but he had enjoyed the new and exciting frisson of being cuckolded by a much younger man. It even gave him pleasure to note that Mr Wickham was larger than he, both longer and thicker.
The three of them were silent for a while, comfortable in their nakedness.
“What time will your daughters return?” said Wickham.
Mr Bennet consulted his pocket watch.
“They will return within the next half hour I imagine,” he said. “Uncle Gardiner will probably have sent them on their way now that he has ten bottles of brandy to enjoy.”
“Then we ought to get dressed,” said Mrs Bennet.
“Yes, I suppose we should,”
They dressed themselves and returned to the sitting room where they chatted about the war and other sundry matters.
In time they heard the five young women return from Uncle Gardiner’s, laughing and giggling as they skipped across the fields. They walked into the sitting room, fresh faced from their long walk.
“Hello, mother, hello father, Mr Wickham,” said Lydia. “Are you still discussing political matters?”
Mr and Mrs Bennet and Wickham feigned not to hear them.
“You see, Mr Bennet,” said Wickham, “what most people don’t realise is that Napoleon is a little man who wears a very big hat.”
“I see,” said Mr Bennet, nodding sagely, “yes, I see.”
Mrs Bennet looked up.
“Ah, there you are,” she said. “Did Uncle Gardiner enjoy the small gifts we sent him?”
“He began enjoying them as we arrived,” said Lizzy, “and he was continuing to enjoy them as we left.”
“Good,” said Mrs Bennet. “As you can see, your father and Mr Wickham are discussing matters of some gravity.”
“So I hear,” said Lizzy.
“Well,” said Lydia, with a charming little pout that captivated Mr Wickham, “I would prefer to talk about gayer matters, such as bonnets and new dresses and potential husbands one might meet at the assembly balls.”
“Indeed, Miss Bennet,” said Wickham, “why
I could talk balls all afternoon.”
“Did mother show you our garden, Mr Wickham?” continued Lydia.
“Why, no,” said Wickham.
“I could show you if you like. I could show you a rather nice gooseberry bush which I have been trimming.”
“Why I would love to see your trimmed bush, Miss Bennet.”
Wickham gallantly linked his arm through Lydia’s and they retired to the garden. They went further afield into a small piece of woodland with a little clearing that could not be seen from the cottage. Lydia sat down against a tree and Wickham sat beside her.
“Did you enjoy your walk today, Miss Bennet?” he said.
“Yes, it was very agreeable. Did you enjoy your talk with my mother and father?”
“Yes, they were most agreeable, especially your mother.”
“My mother, agreeable?” said Lydia, puzzled.
“Yes, I had a very pleasing time with her.”
He smiled as he recalled Mrs Bennet’s generous bosom and the musky sweetness of her secret place. The thought of it aroused him anew and he tried to hide the developing bulge in his tight white trousers.
“Mr Wickham?” said Lydia.
“Yes, Miss Bennet?”
“Do you think it is wicked if a man and a woman kiss before they are married?”
Wickham tilted his head to one side as if giving the matter his deepest consideration.
“Why, er, no. Not necessarily. After all, a couple must discover whether or not they are compatible in matters pertaining to love before they are husband and wife forever.”
“You are so wise, Mr Wickham.”
Yes, I am, thought Wickham to himself. But I have no intention of marrying the little fool.
“Thank you, Miss Bennet.”
“And you think a kiss would give one conclusive evidence of compatibility?”
“Oh, I am sure of it.”
“Perhaps we should try it. Just for our own amusement of course,” said Lydia with a coquettish little smile.
“That might be amusing, Miss Bennet.”
He leaned across and kissed her on the lips. She reached out to him and, by accident or design, brushed the bulge in his tight white trousers.
“Why, Mr Wickham, what is that?” she said, raising her hand to her forehead.
