A Crumbling Facade

An eBook By Akbar del Piombo.

"Oh, the funny thing!"

"Don't be afraid of it; here, put your hand on it."

"But what is it? I've never seen anything like it before."

"No? You'll see a lot of them from now on. Go ahead, touch it, it won't bite you."

"I wouldn't dare put my hand on it!"

"If you touch it, you'll really see something you've never seen before!"

"Oh, it's so ugly! Put it away!"

"I'm going to show you something you're going to love; there, see how it wants to touch you?"

The voices of the very innocent eighteen-year-old Mathilde, the rector's daughter, and Sylvester, Count Schoszkly's son by a previous marriage, were but a faint murmur on the other side of the partition where the Baroness lay abed. The noble lady was picking desultorily from a box of chocolates, suffering a heavy ennui. The windows were covered by drapes as if she had no desire to see the light of day. She found the early August afternoon oppressive with its blinding sun and humid stillness. The velvet folds of the drapes turned the atmosphere a deep crimson, coloring the wan cheeks of the Baroness with deceptive life. She took another chocolate from the box and ate it listlessly. In the giant mirror above her head, set in the roof of her antique bed, she could see the roseate form of her body, so much like a statue she had seen once in the Borghese Palace. What was her name, Pauline? Like her own!

Had that other Pauline been a wicked woman? She tried to recall the features of the statue and decided she must absolutely investigate the life history of her namesake. Perhaps Sylvester's father knew. He was such an instructed man. She placed her hand on her breast and watched herself in the mirror while she played with the soft roundness of her right breast. Then, to even the picture, she put her other hand on her left breast, and while she enjoyed the pleasurable sensations of toying with her nipples, she watched herself much as if it were someone else. Then her right hand removed her left breast from beneath her dressing gown, and when she had her breasts fully exposed, she stopped to admire the globes above her. Her thighs were unconsciously rubbing together, increasing her desire to explore her hidden sex. She took another bonbon while she undid the dressing gown and munched the sweet with smacking sounds, changing her position to see more of her generous backside. The thinness of her ankles emphasized the expanse of flesh, which rolled around her hips.

Behind the door, which gave on her study, knelt her personal maid, a long-lashed eye glued to the keyhole. The white bonnet on her head had been pushed back by the doorknob and fell unnoticed to the floor in the maid's absorption with her mistress' dallying. While so engaged, her mouth dropping lower and lower in troubled astonishment and her panties moistening from her arousal, the butler, Hughes, entered the room. Immobile, with a pot of roses in his hands, he was about to ask a question when the true nature of the situation dawned on him. He put down the flowers quietly and tiptoed toward the maid, his cock growing instantly erect, his eyes glowing strangely, his intentions wicked. How alluring she looked from behind, her ass swelling roundly, her back arching slightly, her long legs stretched fully and provocatively. She was at the perfect angle to be taken, and the butler undid his trousers soundlessly, grasped his cock in his hand, rubbing it vigorously to full erection, and eyed his target. The second he drew up behind her, he snatched up her skirts, pulled down her panties, and, with accomplished skill, plunged his burning tool into the hairy slot, grasping her waist with his free arm to help support the blow. His rod slid easily into the lavishly lubricated hole. The poor maid, nearly out of her wits from the unexpected attack, was at the same time gasping in the most sensual way, the shock having brought with it its own appeasement.

Through the keyhole, the quickly transported Clara could see her mistress playing joyfully with her own pussy, rubbing her hands over it, caressing it now slowly, now quickly, moving one hand up to her naked breasts, squeezing them, and then down along her inner thighs. Clara's body was filled with desire, and the combination of being entered by her unknown assailant, and watching her mistress bringing herself closer and closer to ecstasy was enough to make her want to moan with rapture. But she kept silent, for she did not want to alarm her mistress, or in any way pull her away from her masturbation. She watched as her mistress gazed lovingly at her image above her, swaying her body slightly from side to side in order, Clara assumed from her own experiences, to watch the lissome movement of her full, voluptuous breasts. The woman's legs spread further apart, and, as if mimicking this movement, Clara spread her own legs wider, her stance now ready to accommodate her orgasm, which was quickly building, thanks to the enormous cock now pounding in and out of her, rubbing against her enraged clitoris. All at once, the butler grabbed her full hips, pulled her hard into his distended belly, drove deeply into her moist cunt, his breath spilling to her neck; and her mistress arched her back, writhing, and worked her orgasm to explosive proportions with her wildly rubbing finger; and Clara felt the warm waves rushing through her body, bathing her in luxurious, flowing pleasure.

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