Erotica

Heat Loss

She squealed when I thrust into her, and bit on her fist.

“I lost my virginity in an inglenook!”

I sigh at my husband, then turn to the estate agent with a wry smile. “I’m so sorry, Emily. This is the fourth house we’ve viewed in three days, and he’s clearly bored.”

Emily’s own smile doesn’t falter: it’s still hungry and directed at my husband. She licks her lips, just as she does every time she speaks to him, and sometimes when she’s only staring in wonder. “That’s quite alright, sir. They are a romantic feature.”

I have a more pressing interest than predatory younger women. “Never mind romance, Samuel! Why have I never heard about this?”

“It’s embarrassing, darling. You know I was still a virgin at twenty-two, because of my frightening…”

He leaves his participle dangling, so it’s I who must explain the situation to Little Miss Fuck-Me-Daddy. “Sam believed he was deformed, you see. Ever since Eton. He became aware at thirteen that, um… Well, suffice to say he was twice the size of the other boys; more horse than human. They teased him terribly. He became quite shy around girls.”

“Oh my!” Her eyes dart to his crotch. They have done often, usually when she thinks I might not be watching her. She’s bolder this time, her gaze lingering on his impressive bulge.

I drag her eyes back to me. “He overcame that shyness. Why, only last week he bent my best friend’s daughter over the credenza and had her roughly, to the general approval of our dinner guests, so his reticence can only be to protect your modesty. Tell the young lady the story, Samuel! She’s clearly as intrigued as I am. Aren’t you, dear?”

She swallows hard, and nods softly.

He closes his eyes, conjuring memories. “She would have been about your age, Emily. One of our maids. Afterwards, I understood why she always seemed to be blacking the grate when I was in the drawing room. In truth, she waited until I arrived before she began that chore. She wanted me to watch as she knelt in the fireplace, her skirt stretched as tightly as yours over a plump behind that swayed to the rhythm of her buffing arm.

“That day, she must have grown tired of waiting. She didn’t look round, she simply tugged her skirt up around her waist and said, ‘You can take me, sir, if you like. It’s a safe day, and I won’t tell no one.’”

He opens his eyes to stare into Emily’s. “She had no knickers on, Emily! Not a stitch of underwear. Glistening pink lips, adorned with a pendulous drop of her sweet cyprine, peeked out from between pale thighs. As much as I understood women — which was regrettably little at that age — I understood she was ready, and it was wanting my cock that made her so. I remember thinking, ‘So what if I am a freak? She wouldn’t dare gossip about it.’ And of course she never did.

“I lowered my trousers. I had no choice in the matter: if I had not let Polyphemus out of his cave my fly buttons would surely have burst. And once he was released, I knew there was no turning back. The die was cast, and I would be leaving my wretched virginity on the hearth.

“I knelt between her calves and grasped her hips, pressing the swollen head of my cock against her opening. Oh, the heat of it, Emily! Never before had I felt anything to match the welcoming warmth of a quim. Nor afterwards, either: that moment before I first enter a woman, when I can feel her burning desire drawing me in, that is truly life’s most enduring pleasure.”

He has Emily’s rapt attention now. “She squealed when I thrust into her. I thought my size must have hurt her, and indeed it did, but she assured me the next day that it was an exquisite agony. ‘As much pleasure as pain’ were her precise words, I seem to recall. She had to bite on her fist to stifle the sounds of such sweet suffering and prevent them alerting the other staff to her wantonness.

“I seized her hair, pulling her head up like an unruly filly, and I fucked her, Emily. I fucked her urgently, but predictably briefly: years of pent-up lust were spent in mere seconds. The instant I ejaculated, deep inside her, I achieved a sort of clarity. I saw her then for what she was: a common slut, a lowly drudge hoping to feel some small sense of purpose by offering up the only value she had and submitting it to my power. I left her lying in the inglenook, aching and used like a gutter whore, my seed dripping from her ravaged cunt.”

Emily bites her lip, not her fist. Her hands are occupied, clasped together against her skirt, pressing down above her own warmth.

He offers her a smile hungrier than her own. “Would you like me to use you, Emily?”

She releases the breath she’s been holding in a low, plaintive sigh, and nods again, more eagerly than before.

“I’m afraid I can’t spare the time. I last so much longer these days, you see. Come, Charlotte, we have Gifford Hall at two. Cheerio, Emily.”

In the car, Dan pulls the rugby sock out of his trousers, revealing a perfectly average erection hiding beneath it.

“You actually fancied her, you bastard!”

He shrugs. “So did you, Ruby, you old tart. I saw you eyeing up her arse. I reckon she’ll be wanking herself silly right now. Shall we go back in and share her?”

We’d better not. The antique figurine I stole from the bookshelf is genuine Dresden; it might fetch as much as a grand. We’ll share that instead.

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