If you missed any of the half dozen previous parts of this story go here.
Hudson awoke. He lay in the blackness, gazing up, eyes open but unseeing. He heard movement, faint breathing; there was someone in his room. He waited and wondered, hoping it was Madam. She’d never visited him in his bedroom. Somehow their relationship precluded it.
Surely it wasn’t the coolly distant Marie? The idea intrigued him.
He felt the bed move as the someone moved against it. The breathing was closer, soft, but there. A hand made its way under the covers and found his cock. The hand was slick with some form of lubricant.
His cock responded, how could it not? Curiosity about the ownership of the hand began to wane. It seemed forever since his cock had been played with.
The hand seemed to know what he wanted, how he needed touching. It caressed him, gently, almost lovingly, bringing him to full erection. The grip tightened, slid the length of him, squeezed his cock-head. He groaned and was ‘Shhh’d’ by whoever she was. The fist slid down to the root, tightened, as if to choke him. A cock needs a little aggression, a little rough treatment. Part of Hudson lay back and got ready to enjoy.
He ceased to care who she was. He let himself focus just on his cock and the hand that was stroking it.
The hand stilled, perhaps she sensed his increasing arousal. He took over, thrusting, fucking the curled, squeezing fist. It felt so good, so very good. He heard the hand’s owner breathing louder, was she becoming aroused too? He thrust harder, faster but then the fingers relaxed, opened, leaving him nothing to thrust into.
He stopped, lay still. The fingers were still there but curled loosely around his cock, barely touching him. The words, ‘Don’t stop,’ hung unspoken in his throat. His cock was hot and he wanted more, tighter, faster.
Puzzled, he waited, moving his hips a little, wanting to feel her again.
Then the fist closed back around him and pumped, once, twice. He lay still, dreading that she’d stop again. This time the pressure was less but the hand moved faster. In the total darkness his cock and the hand were everything. His thighs tensed, his buttocks tightened, his breathing ceased as the climax suddenly built. He squirmed, his whole body zeroing in on the sweet friction on his cock.
She stopped! Her hand was gone. He heard his voice saying, “No, don’t stop!”
How had she known the exact moment? His body writhed; he thrust at nothing with his cock, seeking release. He wanted to come, wanted not to … he didn’t, not quite. He lay panting, panting and wanting. He wanted to touch himself, but he didn’t. He wanted the visiting hand back, back on his poor, come-ready cock.
An eternity seemed to pass until at last he felt himself softening. As if she knew, she took him in
hand once more and, feeling him diminished, released him. She waited and waited then felt him again. His cock was small, small and soft.
He felt the hand withdraw from under the covers. ‘Don’t let her leave now!’ he begged silently. There was a bubbly, squirting noise, the sound of more lubricant being squeezed into a palm?
The hand came back, cupped over his cock and balls and began a gentle caressing. He felt his cock swell and surge erect again, back he went, to full hardness. The lovely, pumping caressing of his length was renewed. He was in love with the hand. It twisted and rolled and squirmed over the head of his cock, making subtle, clever love to it. Making his balls squirm in their sac, making his groin spasm.
She stilled her hand but kept the nearly-too-tight grip on him and again he began to fuck the lovely thing. He closed his eyes and imagined it was Madam’s cleavage he was fucking, then her mouth, then her wonderful pussy. In the end he simply imagined it was her hand – was it?
Perhaps it was Marie’s hand. Did it matter? No, not so long as it did what it was doing.
The hand was still, just gripping him as he fucked, letting him make his own speed.
Hudson thrust into the fingers until he felt his climax approaching and then he slowed and stopped. Self-teasing, but there was the added fun of fucking a hand other than his own.
Three times he took himself to the brink, three times she let him.
He heard her shift and the other hand joined the first. Now one gripped his cock and the other played with his balls.
Hudson loved it. One hand began stroking his cock again and the fingers of the other began to play behind his balls, pressing and caressing, the intimacy all but unbearable.
He could hear his tormentor breathing loudly now, more deeply, as if she were becoming aroused too. He hoped she’d climb into bed, on top of him and engulf his straining erection.
But that wasn’t her plan it seemed. She gripped his cock tightly, tight to the point of pain and began pumping. This time there was no slowing or stopping. She took him to the brink and over. With an unstoppable suddenness his crotch convulsed and he thrust into the tight fist and came, … and came and came and came.
He heard his desperate breaths, saw the lights on his retinas and sobbed his way through his orgasm. Felt the hot gushes spurt onto his belly.
The hands were gone. A faint silhouette showed in the doorway, Marie or Mistress, he still didn’t know.
Alone again with the cooling wetness of his own ejaculate. The almost bleachy smell of his come.
Tomorrow he’d see both of them and wonder, ’Which?’ Would his visitor betray herself? Marie or Mistress – she had lovely hands. He reached for his shrivelled cock and found the slippery wetness he’d made – they‘d made.
Hudson drifted into sleep.
The alarm went off. Hudson opened an eye, 07:02. He lay for a few moments, trying to decide if it had been real or a dream. He swung his feet to the floor. One foot landed on something. He bent over and picked up a plastic bottle, black, rather phallic in shape. The label read, ‘Silicone Slik’ and described the contents as personal lubricant. He grinned; he’d certainly been personally lubricated.
So it hadn’t been a dream. He slipped his hand inside his boxers; his cock was slick – Silicone Slik no doubt. He put the bottle on his bedside table; perhaps the owner would retrieve it. He would like to know who she was, which she was.
He served Sir Oliver and Madam their breakfast as usual. Sir Oliver ate quickly and, after giving Madam a peck on the cheek, he left for work.
“That’s wonderful news, Madam.”
“Isn’t it?” she said, “I thought you should know.”
Hudson was surprised, very surprised but he did his best to disguise the fact. One of Sir Oliver’s shy little sperm had made the journey then. He wondered if this was the moment to tell Madam about his long ago vasectomy.
“I shall miss trying to help, Madam,” he said very sincerely.
“Oh, Hudson, I hope you’ll continue with that service.” She sounded very definite. “My sister was
desperately horny, all through her pregnancy. If I’m the same way …” She left the sentence unfinished but her face shone with happy anticipation.
“In that case, Madam, I shall try to be of help.” Any thoughts of mentioning his vasectomy fled from his mind. Hudson didn’t want to stop doing it with Madam.
“Would you like me hornier, Hudson?”
“Madam is all a man could ask, just as she is.” His cock was stirring, his Silicone Slik cock.
“My breasts will get bigger you know, my nipples will get more sensitive,” she shivered slightly, not with cold, “My sister says she was like a mink in heat the whole time.”
Hudson’s erection was gaining strength, painful in his pants. He shifted uncomfortably.
“I’m teasing you aren’t I, Hudson?” She reached out and raked her nails slowly down the fly of his pants. He gasped as she did it. “That lovely cock of yours seems to work so very well.”
“Yes, Madam, thank you, Madam.”
Hudson met Marie in the hall. They exchanged good mornings. Again he wondered who had visited him the night before.
She started up the stairs. Hudson stood at the foot; hand on the banister, watching her climb. She had good legs and the short skirt made the most of them. The skirt was too short; somebody should admonish her about it. Hudson wasn’t about to admonish anyone. With every step she took he saw further up the backs of those thighs, her stocking tops appeared. She stopped a couple of steps short of the top and Hudson could all but see her ass.
She turned and looked down at him, she’d known he’d still be there, watching. Marie sat down on the top step. An odd pose, her feet were apart, knees together, she looked little girlish somehow. The back of her skirt hung down the step and the backs of her thighs gleamed white. “Could I have a word with you?” She spoke softly and managed, with a move of her head, to ask him to come up and join her.
Hudson started up, wondering what she wanted. As he ascended she slowly parted her knees, wider and wider as he advanced. Damn it, he could see up her skirt! Her legs kept opening. ‘Dear Heavens!’ She was naked under the skirt; he could see almost everything. Hudson gulped, almost audibly, and stopped.
He swallowed and asked, “What is it Marie?” His eyes found hers and she smiled. He knew that she knew from whence his eyes had come. His cock was still half hard from its Madam-induced rigidity and now it was quickly firming again. His eyes wanted to look back down. He had a flashback to the hand on his cock the night before.
“It’s about you and,” she paused, “you and her, you’re at it, all the time.” There was some anger in
Everything about Marie was different. Hudson was continually being caught wrong-footed by her. She was so very good at her job and yet; and yet, here she was, displaying herself and talking of things that were no business of hers.
“Marie! Aren’t you forgetting yourself?” he blustered. His eyes flicked once again to between her splayed legs. He saw her eyes catch his downward glance.
“Jack, oh Jack, I never forget myself.” She slowly closed her legs. Hudson was relieved and disappointed.
Then the lovely legs opened again, she was too shadowed for him to see properly, but he imagined her vagina peeling open too.
Struggling to regain his dignity Hudson said, “Marie, I’m just the butler here, as was my father and his father before that and …”
She cut him short. “Jack, I know. I know you two are lovers. That’s fine. I just wish she didn’t take up all your free time. It’s a lonely little room up there …“
Hudson took a quick deep breath, about to interrupt, but she ploughed on, “Sir Oliver fancies me, he’s made that plain enough but I certainly don’t fancy him,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “We’re all stuck in this big house, miles from anywhere; I’m lonely Jack.”
They both heard the chair scrape back in the breakfast room. Marie’s legs closed, Hudson imagined the soft thighs slapping sweetly together; he turned and started downstairs.
Behind him Marie asked softly, “Can we talk again, later?”
“I think we should,” he said, trying to get the authority back into his voice.
Come back to read more of Julius’ continuing story one week from today!
If you would like to read more of Julius’ sexy stories go here.
Julius says this about himself: “ I love writing what I call smut, been writing it for years. Sometimes, to me anyway, written erotica is more arousing than visual. If others get a charge from my stories, that’s a bonus. So, let me know what you think of a story, good or bad. I promise to reply.”