Angeline's dalliances with the servants has opened her in new and exciting ways to the pleasures of the flesh she had never before dreamed of. But her new sexual needs are no longer fulfilled by a mere two servants. After her husband yet again denies her needs, she demands that someone new be brought to join in their illicit games.
Thus the gameskeeper's son, a young redhead of only eighteen years, is introduced to their party in the forest. His youthful vigor is welcome, but will he be able to satisfy Angeline's desires? And with two randy, bisexual servants involved, what else will be required of the new lad?
Note: this tale of erotic debauchery is part 3 of a series, and is intended for 18+ audiences only.
Excerpt:
Angeline looked the boy--the young man, more correctly--up and down. He didn't look like much of a Lothario, but if there was one thing she had learned over the last day or two--about herself, if no one else--it was that you never knew.
"Come here, Damien," Angeline said, gesturing towards him with a finger. He moved to stand before her, making a halfhearted effort to correct his diffident slouch, but failing. This was not a promising start.
"Remove your shirt, please," she asked.
He paused and glanced back towards Thewson and Anderson for a fraction of a second before returning his attentions to Angeline. He pulled his shirt up over his head.
His skin was quite white, and had only the slightest downy hair of a teenager on it; but the muscles were evident even in the simple act of removing the article of clothing. The arms, shoulders, chest were all wrapped in thick, ropy cords, belying a strength and haleness that came of much outdoor work. His hands, too, were large and looked strong. He licked his lips nervously--they were plump and full, and looked lovely and soft.
His dark blue eyes were on her now, and her chest suddenly tightened. She traced the line of his stomach down with her gaze, to the waistband of his tweed trousers; what lay beneath, she wondered? Firm, taut buttocks, most probably--and a long fat cock.
But he was clearly uncomfortable: the slight shaking of his hands and the sweat bedewing his forehead and upper lip gave him away, no matter how serious and composed his expression.
"Well?" she enquired. Angeline was not entirely sure how to phrase her request, but her blood was beginning to rush to her head and she felt as though she would be less able to articulate if she did not get it out soon. "Perhaps you ought to get to work, young sir," she said, and pulled her skirts up above her knees again.
His eyes widened and, if she was not mistaken, his nostrils flared. A flush began to creep into his pale skin. Silly boy.
But he surprised her; he dropped to his knees directly, and--with a quick glance to ensure she would not protest--he placed his hands on her bare thighs. She drew them a little wider, as though inviting him in.
He did not await further encouragement. He fell upon her fanny like an eager dog, his tongue warm and wet against her ready, waiting skin. He prised her apart immediately, separating the sensitive lips and probing deep within her. A gush of desire coursed through her and she found herself taking his head in both her hands, as though forbidding him to stop his work...
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