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From: Bookman Archives <readebks@wolfenet.COM>
Subject: RP: The Lady   mf, oral, historical
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(Note: I am not the author, only the archivist.

The following story contains scenes of explicit sex.  If you're not old
enough to be here, you're not old enough to read it.  Scram.

I am missing the center part of this three-part story.  I'm posting it
because the other two are able to stand alone.  If anyone has part 2, or
the complete story, I'd love to have it to complete the archive.)


The Lady, Part 1 

                                ROBIN  part 1



    The young woman's lightly freckled skin, so little exposed to the sun, 
is mottled with goosebumps. The fire in the hearth across the room 
crackles likes boots on fall leaves, but the damp November chill still 
permeates the heavy stone walls.  She has slept finally, exhausted, after 
the long trip, gagged and blindfolded.  She is tied to the bed, arms 
stretched tight and legs spread wide, and a thick silk scarf covers her 
eyes.  
    The muffled echo of the hoofbeats in snow had been unable to drive 
from her mind the terror of grey-coated men, little more than peasants, 
rushing into the room and rounding up her parents, brothers and sisters. 
Two had grabbed her arms and pulled her through the door to the 
sunroom where she had spent so many hours sitting with her Nana, 
doing her needlework and listening to the old woman's tales of times 
past. At the report behind her she whirled, and saw her father slump to 
the floor. She remembers her scream and the barrel of the pistol 
ascending to her forehead with an audible click of the hammer.  Her 
memory there ends; she knows she must have fainted - or was she, too, 
slaughtered and now living in some licentious afterlife?
    Yet, the bruises from the carriage ride and the burning of the strong 
but flavorless spirit given to warm her remained all too real.Sharp too 
are the memories of her torn dress being gently removed from her, and 
her clawing efforts to maim these faceless abductors, surely accomplices 
of her family's assailants.  A soft gown had been handed to her with 
instructions from a soft but firm feminine voice to don it.  The girl had 
responded by kicking out and screaming at each voice, each set of 
anonymous hands, until they had restrained her, naked, on the bed and 
forced yet more of the liquor down her throat, apparently to soften her 
fright.
    Now she was very awake, and somewhat drunk for the first time in 
her life. The priests had forbade her use of intoxicants, although her 
mother's frightening monk had tried to offer her a cup or two when 
others were not around. She shuddered; that mad, mesmerizing man...
    But now, the alcohol coursing through her system as would a small 
blaze, each inch of her uncovered flesh bared to sensations of flickering 
heat, alternating with cool zephyrs, she drifted with new sensations, 
undistracted by sight. Would the touch of a gentle man's rough hand on 
her budding breasts and rosebud nipples - perhaps Serj, her father's 
handsome adjutant - cause them to harden as now? Would the feel of his 
breath on her thighs, bring about the river she now felt flowing in, and 
from, her downy sex. She trembled; Serj's eyes always looked for hers 
entering a room she was in.
    Oh, how he would react if he were to see her as she was now!  Would 
her nakedness cause him to fling off his clothes to be as bare as she, his 
passion to bring him as erect as the men in the naughty tales the 
governesses told each other at night when they thought the children 
could not hear?   She imagined that he was in the room now, gazing at 
each hillock, each curl, each secret fold of her form.  Maybe he in fact 
silently was sitting before her now, his hand hovering to touch her at any 
moment.  Her hips involuntarily rose, as if to meet an outstretched hand 
or.... as in the salacious tales - a pair of lips?  What would they feel
like, softly, wetly tugging down where...

   Footsteps! A soft, obviously feminine tread came toward her.  What 
must this stranger think, with her youthful, hairless cleft moist with lust, 
her hips perceptibly writhing?  The knot holding the blindfold loosened, 
and then - oh the light!  Even the dim fire in the hearth hurt her eyes, but 
soon they adjusted and took in the large bedchamber, with brocade 
curtains framing a view of falling snow, and ornate French furniture, 
including the four-poster  bed to which the silk kerchiefs attached her 
limbs. In front of her was a young, dark-haired serving girl, with large 
dark eyes and flawless small features. Her brief, tight blue dress typed 
her as a maidservant, a chambermaid. Wordlessly, the maid swept a thin 
white silk coverlet over the tied young woman, from mid-thigh up to the 
upper swell of her breast.  The liquid touch of the fabric further 
distended her passion-betraying nipples.  
   A heavier tread drew her gaze to the chamber door.  A tall, lithe man, 
in his late thirties, gracefully entered. His blonde, trimmed beard 
matched the light hair uncovered as he doffed his carefully blocked 
black top hat, which he handed to the maid with his snow-strewn great 
coat.  His fairness suggested he was from the West; a Latvian?  An 
elegant waistcoat with impeccably tailored trousers placed him as a man 
who traveled in circles of wealth and refinement, as she was accustomed.  
He approached and smiled. The audacity of the villain!
    She screamed, "Why have you abducted me? You will be hanged 
before dawn for this outrage." Her shaking fury loosened the coverlet, 
and it dropped to uncover one perfect swelling mound, and its pink-
tipped bud.
    He reached over and slid the white silk sheet up to her shoulder. He 
spoke, with a soft, sympathetic tone, a slight Scandinavian lilt.  "Oh my 
Princess, I see your confusion. But you see, at great risk, I've saved your 
life..."
    Her confusion was mixed with wariness. "But the men who brought 
me here were with those who..." Suddenly the memory of her father's 
assasination flooded her thoughts, and tears began to well.
     He nodded, "I knew the attack would come, and had my men there to 
act as part of the mob. Do you recall them taking you from the room 
with guns drawn?"  She nodded, still uncertain.  "My agents pretended to 
kill you just out of the view of the throng, and spirited you away. Had 
they not, you would have been dead within seconds."  He paused; his 
voice lowered.  "I am sorry... The rest of your family...there was nothing 
I could do."
    She was silent. She had had many hours to accustom herself to their 
likely passing. The strangeness of her situation, his caring manner, the 
spirits, and her nakedness and no-longer-quiescent lustful thoughts all 
served to numb her mourning. That time too would come. For now, she 
must adjust to this reality: her life never again would be as before, and 
none could know who she was.
     He reached up to her scarf-bound wrist, wrily chiding, "I guess that I 
can release you now. My servants perhaps need no longer fear your ire."  
     "No!!"  Her cry stopped him, puzzlement in his eyes.  Her firm voice 
barely betrayed the vodka she had downed. "I can only surmise what 
woman I now am destined to be, what guise I must adopt to survive the 
forces that have swept away my family. I must learn to navigate these 
new currents in a channel never charted by an mapmaker. I barely know 
myself, my feelings; yet, my confinement has shown me some that I had 
before heard only whispered about."  She sat up as much as the bonds 
would permit, allowing the coverlet to slide to her hips. His breath 
caught at the vision of her breasts exposed in the red glow from the 
hearth. A flick of her hips pooled the fabric at her side, exposing the wet, 
engorged petals of her virginal sweet lips.  
      Across the room, the auburn-tressed maid gasped aloud, her own 
tongue wetting her lips and her breathing growing heavy.  On the bed, 
the girl's green eyes fastened on the blonde aristocrat. "I now can control 
nothing, and must know what that means. Rid yourself of your attire and 
come to me, and do what you will to slake your lust - and to teach me of 
mine."  With those words, she felt the river in her loins again flood with 
passion, seeping onto her thighs.
     Slowly, he removed his clothes, handing each garment to the stunned 
maid.  The fair captive gasped as she saw each of the manor lord's 
striated muscles come into view. Finally, nude, he approached her. Her 
eyes fixed on his thick, enlarged male sword; her mouth grew dry. He sat 
next to her, his scent filling her. One strong hand gentle stroked her 
cheek, and then descended her neck, brushing her nipples. He drew it 
down her side, over her taut young buttocks, and along her pale thighs. 
Her dewy, succulent mound again rose from the bed. She panted, 
"Please, caress me, touch me... there!" 
    "Yes, Your Highness, I will pleasure you...  my Princess Anastasia..."
      She shuddered, knowing that this might be one of the last times that 
she could be addressed by the name giving her by her royal parents. 
Many were the enemies of the aristocracy among the peasant 
revolutionaries.  Her gaze went to the window. Yes, she thought, I will 
now be forced to wander, rarely lighting for more than a moment, 
hoping to survive the chill of the despotism of the masses.  In a moment, 
her eye was drawn to a small, dark bird, resting on the bare branches of 
an alder just outside the window, resting stoically in the frigid November 
air ruffling its orange-red chest feathers.  Its head bobbed, then froze, its 
eyes locked to hers. For a heartbeat, their souls embraced, danced, 
shared much of life and survival in the unforgiving chill. Its beak 
dropped and grabbed a grub, and then the bird looked at her one final 
time, in almost a salute to another brave flier, and then it alit.
     "That's me," she uttered in a tone of recognition.  The blonde man 
and dark nurse stopped in uncomprehending astonishment.  "I'm Robin 
now", she explained, "and I will survive, and flourish... and experience.. 
everything." 
      This moment of joyous self-knowledge rose to one of epiphany as - 
for the first time - she knew the touch of a man at the portals of her 
private place. His soft, highborn hands probed at her nether lips, and his 
middle finger slipped inside as it stroked. Her eyes closed and her loins 
again leaped up to capture the digit, drawing it up her tight tunnel, until 
it struck her taut maidenhead.  Her hips churned, so as to feel his soft, 
stiff finger in every corner and as far up into her moistening young pussy 
as the membrane would allow. She smiled up at his handsome face with 
a grimace of passion. "I want. . ." she started, but could not find the 
words.
     He smiled back, and brought his lips to hers, and then drew them 
down her throat, nibbling at her reddish-blonde hair cascading along the 
pillow, and along the swell of her firm, teen-aged breasts.  Her pink 
nipples swelled in excitement, and then were devoured by his mouth.  
The roughness of his sucking and slight scratchiness of his beard 
reminded her how helpless she was in front of his masculine onslaught.  
His finger withdrew from her damp slit, and again lightly, teasingly 
stroked her fully engorged labia.
      She moaned, wishing her hands were not bound to the bedposts, so 
that she could force his hand back inside her.  To the extent the bonds 
permitted, her body swayed side-to-side, so as to force her young tit 
further into his slavering mouth.
     The newly self-named Robin, former Princess Anastasia of Russia, 
turned to the dark-haired maid, who was running her hands up the sides 
of her own firm, uniform-covered breasts.  "Please, Miss," Robin 
implored, "I beseech you; do not let your master torture me with his 
teases.  Draw a sword on him if you must, but make him bring me to the 
pleasure that he promises with his touch!"
     The maid turned to the aristocrat, who raised his lips from the girl's 
chest long enough to nod and state in reply, "Yes, come join us, Sonya."  
As she began to shed the uniform, the man's head descended further 
down Robin's torso, nibbing and licking along her flat stomach.  His 
teeth playfully clamped along her light pubic hair.
     The now nude slim maid rushed over.  "No, Count," she teased in her 
accent from the southern areas, "our guest has said that you must give 
her pleasure now."  With that, the dark maid grasped the top of his head 
with both hands and pressed his face into Robin's loins, his lips firmly 
attached to the wet lips of her cunt.
     The sudden rush of ecstacy from his touch nearly caused Robin to 
burst the strong bonds in her passion.  The kneeling man between her 
thighs pursed his lips and lightly sucked at her clit through her virginal 
pink pussy lips.  The waves of pleasure burst up her spine, and she 
spread her thighs even wider, if that were possible.
     Glancing down her body, she saw the maid leap onto the broad bed, 
duck her head under the Count's body, and capture the tip of his erect 
rod between her lips.  He reflexively bucked forward, driving the phallus 
into the young woman's mouth and down her throat.  The Count then 
passionately drove his own tongue between Robin's thigh and up into her 
sweet tunnel, probing and tickling her passion hole.
     The maid permitted the man to drive his hard, fleshy cock several 
times deep into her mouth, and then removed her tousled head from 
underneath him.  She ducked her lips down Robin's thighs and down 
alongside the Count's licking mouth.  She lightly tongued the edge of 
Robin's furred lips, and then pulled at the blonde hair of the Count.  
"Yes, milord, she now is ready!"
     As he pulled his lower body up between Robin's legs, Sonya grasped 
his thick cudgel, and probed along the blonde girl's sopping pussy.  As 
Robin waited apprehensively, the Count pushed forward...
-------------------------------
    Robin held her breath, her teeth clenched, as the fleshy tip spread her 
portals, then stopped, resting just inside.  She shuddered in excitement, 
and then felt his thickness again press forward. A weight lifted from the 
bed, and she saw the nude maid come around behind her and entwine her 
fingers in those of Robin's outstretched, bound hands.  As the heavy 
cock pressed up against her intact maidenhead, Robin squeezed the 
younger girl's hands.
     Without warning, the Count pushed forward and Robin felt a sudden 
stab of pain in her loins, and the sudden realization that he was through 
her hymen and halfway into her newly stretched pussy.  Just then, raven-
tressed Sonya leaned over and harshly sucked her right breast into her 
mouth.  The competing sensations offset one another, and the blonde felt 
herself drawn into a maelstrom of intense pleasure, sensation and sharp 
but fading agony.  Amidst the rush of feeling, an overriding thought 
rushed through her overwhelmed mind: I am now truly into my new life, 
no longer a girl living a pampered life of regal splendor and regimented 
societal convention, but a woman with intelligence, indomitable spirit, 
and ...she could not help giggling to herself, a hell of a huge cock in her 
fully stretched young cunt!
     The Count withdrew his glorious organ and paused, then rammed it 
back in, farther than before.  Slowly he drew back, and then began the 
to-and-fro motion that Robin had always imagined but now was 
experiencing in all of its wonderful reality.  Some pain remained, but 
rather than running from it, Robin determined to push through it, 
lurching her loins up to his, at first tentatively, but soon in abandon.  A 
recurring "Yes, yes," escaped from her lips.
    The maid pulled her mouth up briefly from Robin's breast, and seeing 
Robin's pleasure-contorted features, smiled at the princess. "The Count, 
he is no longer teasing you?"  Robin smiled back, and Sonya 
impetuously leaned down and clamped her lips onto Robin's own.  
Robin had kissed other girls of the royal court before - such was the 
accustomed greeting of her time - but this new sensation, added to the 
thrills of the stroking rod in her pussy, was more of a thrill than she 
could have expected.  She warmly responded to the kiss, and met 
Sonya's exploring tongue with her own.
    As they noisily kissed, Robin realized that the sensations in her loins 
now began to take on a more intense, pulsating cast.  She groaned into 
Sonya's mouth, who pulled away and grinned.  "Is the Count bringing 
you to a cum?" she asked.  Robin nodded, half in confusion.
     "I think so," she responded. "Whatever is happening, it is glorious 
beyond all measure."  Suddenly, an electric thrill started at her loins and 
began to run up her spine.  Her loins jolted forward, and she began to 
jerk.  With a single, loud, "Goddddddd!" she froze, and an indescribable 
sensation swept over her..... her first, unbelievable orgasm....

(Part 2 missing)

                THE LADY, PART 3 (of 3)


(Where our heroine, Princess Anastasia, learns to adjust to her new
life as a commoner, "Robin", on the grounds of the estate of her
mysterious savior, the mysterious Count.)  

    After two weeks of idleness in the Count's lavish castle,"Robin" began 
taking longer strolls past the well-kept gardens and out to the fields of 
the estate.  The Count had left again on a business trip to England, and 
Robin needed time to ponder what type of relationship she had with her 
benefactor.  Since the furious orgy in her room with the Count and his 
maid, the man had seemed almost shy around her, and had neither raised 
nor sought to reprise the lustful event.
    One chilly morning, she found herself drawn to the large, grey barn at 
the edge of the inner curtelage of the estate.   Her boots crunched at the 
thin layer of snow leading up to the grey-weathered structure.   She 
peered through a cracked door.
    Hunched over a blacksmith's anvil was a large, broadbacked man with 
dark, coarse hair.   He was clad in dark rough trousers held up by 
suspenders.  He wore no shirt to cover his heavily muscled torso, as the 
heat thrown off by the rough forge stove heated the room.  A light coat 
of sweat and grime covered his chest and roughhewn face.  His large 
hands worked at the tongue of a wagon, his hammer poised to pound at 
the pig iron.  Looking beyond him, she could see that the remainder of 
the barn was filled with hay, to see the estate's horses through the winter.
    She stepped inside, her shoulder brushing against the door.  Its rusted 
hinges creaked.  The hulking figure looked up, and his ebony eyes 
peered through the gloom toward her.  He was younger than she first 
guessed, perhaps about 30.  His gaze examined her without wavering, 
scorching her chilled skin.  As a princess, she had never experienced a 
commoner's gaze, as such eye contact was forbidden.  Now she felt 
defenseless against his probing examination that unabashedly swept 
from ankles to head.
     He grunted with a smile, as though he had reached a satisfying 
conclusion as to her past, and as to how he should classify her.  He 
returned to his work, lifting the heavy hammer as if it were a toy, and 
striking at the heated, malleable iron.
    Robin's face flushed with indignation at his dismissive air.  She 
started to turn and leave the barn, but something about the scene - the 
crackle and oily smell of his fire, the almost unearthly bulge of his 
workman's muscles, perhaps the grey light of the overcast morning - 
drew her further in.  Her light tread brought her to within ten feet of him.  
He pretended not to notice her entrance.  She cleared her throat, albeit in 
ladylike fashion.
    "Hello, I'm Robin.  I'm a guest of the Count." Her voice faltered.  
Robin blushed again, feeling like a schoolgirl.  He nodded curtly, 
silently, and then resumed his pounding.  After a few strokes, he held the 
metal tongue up to his eyes and examined it for flaws.  This time, she 
searched his face, finding a surprising intelligence, in an artistic sense,
in his dark eyes.
    With a sigh - as though recognizing an obligation to the owner of the 
estate - the man finally responded.  "Ivan." The voice was soft, but a bit 
gravely, as though unaccustomed to much use.   Ivan reached down and 
picked up several rolled bars of iron, and turned to take them to a larger 
pile against the wall.  Robin stood transfixed at the sight of his pectorals 
and back muscles lifting and clenching as he moved the heavy iron.
     When he returned to the fire, he found her standing next to his small 
work table.  He stopped only a foot away from her, as though his 
overwhelming presence would suffice to reclaim his spot and compel her 
to move.  But, she did not move, but looked up at his weathered face.  
His powerful scent of sweat and soot did not repel her, as it was not 
really unpleasant, but rather seemed fully appropriate to the setting and 
her unexpectedly growing desire.  Her gaze dropped to his chest.
    She placed a slim hand on his sternum, brushing lightly against his 
mat of dark hair.  A forefinger traced his striated, developed pectorals.  
Robin was enraptured.  Certainly she'd known large men in the palace in 
St. Petersburg, but those giants were soft, little used to muscle-hardening 
work.  Ivan was unlike any of them.  She looked up again, at his blank 
eyes, at his mouth.   Still, he did not move.  Was he waiting for some 
sign from her?
    She paused, and then her other hand slid up his shoulder and around to 
the back of his thick neck.  She pulled his head down and turned hers to 
the side, bringing his lips to the side of her neck.  Finally, she felt a 
response, his mouth opened and began an insistent nibbling at her 
throat.The huge hands clasped her waist; one continued around to 
encompass, to almost surround, her slim buttocks in its grasp.
     As his slavering lips and teeth descended from her throat, she moved 
her fingers to the front of her dress and quickly undid the buttons, 
guiding him down almost to her waist, his lips kneading the silk slip 
underneath the frock.  His hands clutched at the top of the slip, and 
gently but firmly tore it neatly down the front, exposing her taut, pert 
breasts.  Even with the fire's warmth, her nipples were rigid with 
excitement.
    Ivan dropped to one knee, and his hungry mouth began attacking each 
orb in turn.  He sucked, then tugged at them.  Rough, he was - almost 
painful, but he eased up when she yelped.  Her loins began a slow 
churning as they filled with her dewy passion.
    He rose, retracing his lips' path up her slim chest to the hollow of her 
throat.  A quick nip at her chin, and then his mouth found hers; his 
tongue trying to probe between her cherry lips.
     Robin froze.  What was this type of kiss with the tongue?  Further, it 
seemed a bit familiar and unpleasant, this grimy beast in her mouth that 
way.  Her lips stayed together.
    Robin could feel his muscles tighten, then his face pulled away.  He 
raised her into the air by her bare shoulders, did a half pirouette, and 
flung her at least ten feet through the air onto a large stack of loose hay.  
She fell heavily on her back.
    As he began to turn away, she blurted, "I'm sorry!  It's not you!"  
     Ivan stopped and looked back at her - dubious and wounded.  "Please, 
come here.  You see, I'm just not used to that ...  and I wasn't sure of the 
taste and..." His hurt look darkened, and she understood that she had 
insulted him.  And then, she realized that she did want to taste him, 
intimately.
    She looked at his crotch and saw for the first time that his trousers 
were tented with an extraordinary bulge.  Her mouth opened in a silent 
gasp.
     Suddenly, Ivan bent down and grabbed the top of her dress and her 
shredded underblouse - both of which now were bunched at her waist - 
and pulled them down over her hips, bringing the remainder of her dress 
and her silk pantaloons with them.  Lifting her legs, he pulled her clothes 
off her legs and flung them aside, leaving her wearing nothing but a 
silver choker around her neck.  She felt the scratchy but silky straw 
against her back and ass.  All of her senses - particularly that of touch - 
seemed heightened in her excitement and passion.  The cool draft tickled 
the hair on her inner thigh and ruffled the pubic hairs guarding her until-
recently virgin vagina.  The crackle and burning tang of the forge's fire 
further added to the rawness of the scene.
    "Sit up!" he growled, stepping forward.  The red-headed girl rose to 
her knees, her head bowed.  His hands reached down and grabbed her 
hair, pulling it back to raise her eyes to meet his.  "Well?" he asked.  She 
understood his question.  She nodded slowly, and her gaze dropped to 
his stained trousers, still-inflated by his blood-engorged pole.
     Her slender hands traced the outline of his cock.  Her chin quivered; 
she had no idea that they got so big!  One hand slipped up to his 
waistline and tugged at one suspender.  Ivan took the hint and slid them 
off his shoulders.  In the meantime, she busily undid the buttons of his 
trousers; as the last went, the pants slid down to his ankles.
    The glow of the fire cast a reddish glow on his mammoth member as 
it bobbed into the light.  Robin slid a hand around its girth, the tips of 
her thumb and forefinger barely meeting.  She pulled the loose skin up 
and down slowly, and then increased her pace.
     "It's so....  God, it's incredible," said Robin.  She briefly looked up
at his face.  "I would like to ...  taste you.  I mean, to taste IT."
    She wetted her lips with her tongue, then leaned forward.  Pursing her 
red lips, she planted a kiss on the tip of his member, allowing her tongue 
to slip out and lap gently at the tip.  She worked it around the end of the 
cap, then slid it along the side.  She nibbled, then feasted along the broad 
shaft, savoring his flavor, his aroma.  As she worked her way back out to 
the tip, his hands once again reached down toward her face.  This time, 
however, he place his palm on her forehead and pushed away.
    She gaped in shock.  "But I...  didn't you like it?" she sputtered.  "Did 
you?" he responded.
    "Of course, but..." Then Robin recalled her resolve to truly sample 
life, not as a spectator, watching from its periphery, but as a full, 
unabashed reveler at the center of the festival.  Yet, she recognized, she 
was merely - and literally - nibbling at its edges.  She sat up again, and 
renewed her stroking of his throbbing organ, noting his manjuice 
seeping out of the tip.
    "Ivan, I truly do want to taste you, your cock and your..." She paused, 
searching for the word.
    "My cum?  Do you want to know the taste of a man's cum?"  Robin 
blushed, but nodded.    Her stroking of his engorged organ increased in 
tempo.  She saw his pre-cum bead at the end.  Impetuously, she threw 
her face forward and captured the red cap between her lips.  Her cheeks 
hollowed as she drew in the essence.  His seepage tasted of cream, and 
salt...  and life itself.  She drew her mouth further up his stalk, her
tongue moving along the underside of the fleshy cudgel against which it was 
pressed.
    As Ivan's tip reached the opening of her throat, Robin gagged slightly 
and drew back to catch her breath.  Her heartbeat quickened as his hands 
lightly cupped the back of her head and pushed it back into his groin.  
Again he stopped at the entrance to her throat, and she grew slightly 
more accustomed to its probing.  He allowed her to draw halfway out, 
and then forcefully pushed her forward, pressing her lips against her 
hands which continued to grasp the base of his cock.
     Establishing a tighter grip on her now disheveled red hair, Ivan 
guided Robin's mouth with more vehemence, pushing his prick deep 
inside, so that her hands were flattened against his stomach.  To and fro 
he pulled her, now entering her throat with an audible gagging sound.  
Robin momentarily tried to push away against his hip, but soon realized 
the futility of resisting the oral assault of this musclebound hulk - she 
might more easily take meat from the grasp of a hungry badger.
    Ivan's strokes into her mouth lengthened in distance, starting just 
outside her slightly parted lips, driving quickly through them into her 
wet maw, and deep into her helpless throat.  On withdrawing, his cock 
exited from her lips with an audible sucking.  Robin tried diligently to 
maintain the tension of her sweet lips throughout his passage.
     Now, all of Robin's senses were bursting with sensation, from the 
sight of his muscular loins, to the smacking and slurping sounds of her 
lips, to the pungent taste of his dribbling pre-cum that filled her mouth 
and dripped from her lips.  Each sensation drew her closer to a feeling 
that she might soon pass out, her heart pounding out of excitement and 
not a little fear that the increasingly deep thrusts down her windpipe 
might cut off all air.  Still, she syncronized her sucking to capture all of 
the sensations of this near-rape of her mouth and to bring him to his 
explosion.
    Suddenly, Ivan gave three quick jabs into her mouth and then held her 
mouth about halfway down his now still cock.  Her lower lip felt a 
pulsation along the vein on the underside, and then her mouth exploded 
with the taste of his sperm jetting into her surprised mouth.  Ivan 
grunted, then literally roared his release.
    Robin pursed her lips and groaned once and again, as though keeping 
time with each burst of his juice.  Her eyes flung open to see his face as 
he jetted out his ecstacy; to her surprise he saw his gaze fixed on her 
lovely face as she accepted his cum into her mouth.  Just then she 
realized that she could not hold all of the essence he was releasing, and a 
stream of the white lava gushed out of the corners of her mouth, down 
her chin, and onto her white breasts and passion-taut nipples.  She 
quickly began swallowing, savoring each tangy drop of this mammoth 
man's offering.  Her hand returned around the base of his still shooting 
stalk, and as though by instinct she resumed her stroking in order to milk 
him of all of the cum he had to offer, and her tongue was once more 
covered with his semen.
    In a few more moments, his shots were reduced to a dribbling stream, 
and his stiffness began to wilt slightly.  She sucked firmly on his tip 
twice more to extract what remained, and then she pulled her mouth 
away.  Ivan dropped to one knee, drained.  Robin fell to her back on the 
straw, and stared at the barn's roof.  Her cum-flecked lips smiled in 
triumph...

   =========   Author of the erotic science fiction tale "I Think 
   *=TRANE=*   I Scan" - part of the Circlet Press anthology 
   =========  *Selling* *Venus*, to be released in July 1995.




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