A young Victorian woman

Author's note:

This starts off rather prim and proper, to lull readers into a false sense of propriety (oh dear, I am giving you clues here, and I really shouldn't ...), but it is not long before explosions emerge, and so I would beg patience ...

...

The young lady hopped gaily out of the carriage, eagerly fished some coins from her blue purse, and gave them to the driver with a winning smile.

"Thank you ever so much, Mr Hooper! Such a smooth journey too, as always!" she cried. "But, you know, you really should be wearing that scarf up over your face on a cold night like this, not just around your neck," the girl chided him gently. "But I promise not to say a word about it to that gorgeous wife of yours, just as long as you give her my very best regards. You will, won't you?"

The old man grinned broadly at his delightful passenger. Belinda Craven really was a most enchanting young lady.

"'Course I will, Miss Craven, ma'am. Thank'ee kindly, I'm sure," he croaked, duly adjusting his scarf and snapping the reins, whereupon the horse obediently clip-clopped off down the road. She stood for a few seconds at her gate, listening attentively to the echo of the hooves dying away amid the London fog. Brrr, her little body was certainly feeling the cold now. And with good reason.

In the hallway of the house, she took off her fur coat, dropped the umbrella into the stand and opened her handbag, taking out the handkerchief in which she had wrapped her black satin opera gloves before leaving the theatre box. Obviously she had been unable to wear them in plain sight on her journey home, they were in such a state! She picked them up and subjected them to closer inspection. Goodness. The hand of the right glove was horribly stained, but the left-hand glove had sustained much more damage overall, not only the hand section but also all down the arm. Oh, my. Well, that was only to be expected.

"I daresay they're completely ruined," she frowned sadly, although it then occurred to her that perhaps Lucy would have a remedy of some kind. Now that indeed was a possibility. Lucy! The mere thought of the girl filled her with sudden hope. Sometimes she wondered what on earth she would do all alone in her Mayfair home without cheerful, tireless Lucy. Making meals, taking care of the daily round, running errands, seeing to visitors, reminders of this, help with that, and a host of other chores, it was all Lucy's department. Lucy was simply the perfect maid. "Yes," she nodded to herself in relief as she moved closer to the mirror, "Lucy will know what to do."

Belinda held the gloves up against the hallway lamp to their full length and studied them. Yes, they were still quite damp. She brought them slightly closer, an inch or two from her nose and timidly, tentatively, gave them a little sniff. Then, slowly, her tongue crept out and licked them, also tentatively at first, daintily, but suddenly it began to dart and jab all over the badly stained gloves. In a matter of seconds she was positively slurping at them, as her eyes went glassy and shifted to the mirror in the hall...

"Hello there," she winked saucily at the reflection as she unpinned her jet-black hair from its bun and a luxurious dark mane fell around her shoulders. A mischievous little chuckle escaped her, and she watched in awe as those pretty, homely features transformed into a totally different visage, eyes half-closed in a suggestive smile, that moist pink tongue now snaking all over her upper lip. "Hello, Rhona. My dear, dear girl, what a dreadfully naughty evening you've had ..."

...

"... but then Father said, 'No, no, absolute nonsense, my boy, a load of blessed codswallop, I've never heard such utter bosh!', and simply walked off in the most dreadful huff. Poor old stick!"

Belinda had just raised a cup of Earl Grey to her lips in the tea room, but had to set it back down again rather quickly on the table for fear of spilling it, overcome as she was by a fit of the giggles at the way Eugene's face had suddenly transformed into a ferocious glare at the end of his funny story, not to mention the gruff bad-tempered voice he had put on while doing so.

She was having a wonderful evening with the young officer. She had only met him that very day - it had been her brother who thought she might hit it off with a friend of his. An awfully good egg, Rupert had said, back on a week's leave from the regiment, and dreadfully funny too, and so when Eugene sent a little note to tell her he had a couple of tickets for an opera Rupert had said she was fond of, well, she jumped at the chance. He certainly was amusing, polite, well-educated and quite dashing. Nor had it escaped her attention that he was also extremely handsome, with carefully brushed fair hair, wide sideboards, clear blue eyes, and those strong hands and muscular neck indicated a well-toned body to boot.

"But, Eugene," she said, glancing suddenly at the clock on the wall, "shouldn't we be making a move? You did say it started at eight, didn't you?"

The young man snapped to his feet. "Certainly, certainly, my dear girl, of course. May I, er ...?", he murmured, gallantly drawing back her chair as she stood up.

Well, what a performance it was, and Belinda oohed and aahed happily throughout. They had a box all to themselves, and in general there were quite a few empty seats round about. Indeed, the boxes on either side were empty. Eugene, a rather more frequent patron, told her this was not at all usual, and speculated that the cold night had deterred theatregoers.

After an hour or so, during what she knew to be a long drawn-out and rather tedious chorus in the final act, Belinda thought she would visit the powder room to get ahead of things, before it became too crowded when the audience began to stream out. She excused herself, and left Eugene engrossed in his seat.

Standing in front of the mirror, Belinda put on a little more mascara and drew out the corners of her eyes a touch with some liner. She wiped off her light pink lipstick with a hand towel, took another lipstick from her bag, and spent a few minutes applying it carefully. She studied herself -- a set of full blood-red lips and smoky eyes looked back at her. She smiled at herself cheekily, eyes glittering. Then she took out the pin from her bun, letting her hair fall around her shoulders, reached up under her skirt and fumbled with her petticoat...

She entered the box again, and took her seat to Eugene's right. Eugene, of course, half-stood as soon as she drew near, ever the gentleman, albeit scanning her face quizzically in a rapid double-take as he noticed the different hair, much redder lips and darker eyes. She smoothed her dress, took out the opera glasses with her right hand and surveyed the room, training her eyes on the balcony opposite.

"You're just in time, Belinda," he whispered across to her, "the fat lady will be on stage any minute now, and ..."

He broke off sharply as he felt a small hand being placed gently on his groin. Sweeping the room with her glasses, she sensed rather than saw his jaw dropping and his downward look of outright amazement.

The little gloved fingers began softly massaging his manhood back and forth through his trousers, and in no time at all it began to rise. Eugene gasped, unable to speak. Still holding the glasses with her other hand, Rhona spoke calmly but firmly:

"Yes, Eugene, this is the most exciting part by far..."

Rhona put the glasses down, her eyes sparkling, taking in the tent forming under her fingers. She changed hands, twisting a little in her seat to do so, staring down at his crotch as she ministered to his member, and moistening her lips. Finally she looked at him, gently caressing his lump all the while:

"You must have a very big cock indeed down there, Eugene. Oh - and it feels so hard to the touch now, too. It has to be dreadfully uncomfortable for you like that. Why don't you take it out?" she suggested in a husky voice, stroking him much more energetically.

Open-mouthed, Eugene stared around wildly to see if anyone was looking. He was much too chivalrous to rudely push away a lady's hand. Indeed, he was too shocked to do anything at all. And, of course, what he was experiencing was not at all unpleasant... Rhona moved a little closer and breathed in his ear, now with a full grip as the shaft had taken shape, stiffening through the material:

"Take it out for me, Eugene. Let me see your cock."

He sat there frozen in his seat, until Rhona rapped impatiently in a low voice:

"I don't have all night, you know, Eugene. I want to see this cock of yours. It feels so rigid and huge, and I simply must see it in the flesh ... oh, don't worry about people, for heaven's sake. I've had a good look round and they're all glued to the last act, and it's so dark in here anyway."

Eugene peered around in the gloom and saw that, indeed, everyone was looking stagewards. He gasped, unbuttoned himself, and looked over at the stage too, while wrenching out his turgid member, not without a little difficulty because, as Rhona had suspected, in her own words, it was very big indeed. He continued to focus on the artistes, panting more and more, not daring to look at her as a full eight and a half inches of English meat sprang up straight and tall, quivering visibly against the buttons of his waistcoat. Still at his ear, it was Rhona's turn to suck in her breath. She licked her lips again:

"Oh my, Eugene. What an impressive specimen you have. Goodness. You must be so proud of that huge chap. Oh, and wonderfully stiff too, like I said. Do you know, I can barely take my eyes off it. And ... I suppose your balls must be simply enormous. I'd very much like to see them as well ..." -- again Eugene hesitated ... ... ... "now, if you please, Eugene!" she ordered.

Eugene gulped, but obediently pulled his underwear down a little more, and two plump gonads popped over the hem.

Rhona's silk-clad fingers were there in a flash, gliding over his hairy balls as the soldier shivered, and then moving up to wrap themselves very gently indeed around the throbbing mast. He fell back a little more in the seat and watched like a man possessed as Rhona made a low splurging noise in her pretty mouth, leaned in and drooled a long thin line of spittle down over the top of it and all over the thumb and first finger of the black glove. She then pulled his foreskin sharply up and down again over the knob, twice, exposing the gland and eliciting another gasp from the hapless Eugene. She caressed the back of the shuddering wet tip a little with three fingers, used the same fingers to gather up a few streaks of her saliva from the shaft and smeared the liquid all over his balls, matting their hair, and then grasped him again and began to move her small fist up and down very, very slowly, now looking him straight in the eye:

"Do you like this, Eugene? Do you like me stroking your long pole with my warm spit all over it?" Her grip relaxed slightly so that her fingertips were now simply gliding loosely up and down his trembling shaft, merely grazing it. "Does your cock enjoy my touch?" she breathed hoarsely, now wrapping her hand around him again, and upping the tempo of her strokes somewhat. "Do you know, I think it likes the feel of my sticky wet fingers. It certainly feels as if it likes being interfered with, because it's all so deliciously stiff and quivery in my hand here, and I suppose it wouldn't be so deliciously stiff and quivery if it didn't like what my hand is doing to it. So do you like the way I pleasure you, Eugene? Is this how you like a woman to do it? ...?

She stopped suddenly, mouth open as Eugene stared at her:

"Oh Eugene, I suppose, I suppose ... I've just realised that technically I'm raping your cock here, aren't I? ... Oh no. SO naughty of me, raping you. I never even asked for your consent. Oh my, what a to-do! I should really stop and apologise, shouldn't I? Or ... or, would you ... like me to go on raping this big thick pole with my soft little hand. Would you like that, Eugene? Would you give me your consent, or ...?" she said, relaxing her grip and preparing to withdraw her hand.

Eugene gulped twice. "No, no, I mean ... yes, yes, Belinda, I consent, yes, yes, please, please do, yes!"

Belinda smiled. Her grip tightened a little now:

"Thank you, Eugene. So watch me, watch as I stroke this stiff monster up and down, up and down, over and over again. Yes, watch me. Look what I'm doing, look. Oh, and it's so thick I can't even get my fingers right around its girth, can you see? Just look at me caressing your powerful dick. Do you like it, Eugene? Do you? ... ... I asked you a question, Eugene!" she hissed, relaxing her grip again just a touch. "Because I can jolly well stop if you want me to, you know. Do you want me to stop? ... well, do you, Eugene?"

Beside himself, Eugene looked down, breathing heavily as he took in the impressive sight of little Belinda's hand stroking him. "Yes, I mean, no, yes, I like it, I do, I do. Very much, yes. No, please don't stop, Belinda."

"Good," she smiled at the mention of the name. It was a very different smile, he noticed now. Definitely a wicked smile. Belinda looked so ... so different all of a sudden. Such a wild look in those dark eyes. "Good boy." She pumped him a few more times rather more violently, and then released him. "Now you do it," she urged. "Masturbate yourself. I want to watch as you jerk that hugeness for me ... or do you need some inspiration? ... here, I'll help you, I'll give both of us some inspiration, look ..."

With that, Rhona sat back a little, and pulled up her dress and tucked all its folds right back to reveal her pride and joy. In Rhona's opinion, one of the capital's darkest, hairiest pussies, if not the darkest and hairiest of them all. Keeping her eyes on him, she held up two fingers for him to see, brought up another large measure of saliva, rolled it around her lips and rubbed both gloved fingers all over her mouth to coat them generously. Her eyes stared at him wide open and dangerous as she made a wickedly wanton O with her lips, sighed heavily as she spread her legs in her seat and firmly inserted the fingers between the bright pink labia framed against a mass of black curls, keeping her eyes full on him the whole time. Eugene stared down, suddenly realising there was nothing but bare skin underneath that dress. His hand reached down to his swollen cock and began to pump it urgently, looking down at her hairy cunt all the while. Rhona's eyes glazed over in delight as she fingered herself softly:

"Oh, Eugene," she leaned over again to purr in his ear, looking downwards," "just seeing that enormous dick of yours standing so proud and then wanking it up and down was already making my little hole wet, so imagine how I feel now with my fingers deep inside it. Does it excite you, watching them going in and out of my hairy hole? It's so, so hairy, isn't it? Does a hairy one excite you, Eugene? Does it? I think it does, you know. So do you like watching me pleasure my pussy as you pull yourself? You do, don't you? And oh ... ... perhaps you're fantasising about filling this tight hole with that beast? Is that what you're thinking? Yes, I think it is. I think you would, you know. Oh, I know you would. I bet you would. What a thought. Eugene's thick cock squeezing into her slippery snatch to make her squeal and squeal and squeal. Riding little me oh so roughly and savagely with all that bigness and stiffness, with those chunky balls slapping about in my lady juice gushing out all around them. Mm, yes, those balls, oh, just look at them, all tight and taut! They must be so, so full of spunk, Eugene. Oh, I hope they are. That's my favourite word, you know, "spunk". Ah! I do love that word so. It's so naughty. I love whispering the word "spunk" to myself simply because I always feel so dirty when I think about warm spunk, and I just adore feeling dirty."

"I think men like the word too, you know," she moaned, now tracing his right ear with the tip of her warm tongue and slop-slop-slopping rapidly in and out of her cunt, but with one eye on the giant cock being rapidly massaged below, "and I think they especially like hearing a woman saying it, or whispering the word "spunk" just like I'm whispering it to you now, because listening to a lady use such a dirty word as spunk simply must make a young man's stiff cock much, much stiffer. Am I right? I am, aren't I? But it's not just the word I like, it's the spunk itself. The sight of fresh man spunk turns me on so-o-o much, especially if it's jumping out of something the size of this. And I want to see this one spatter its spunk everywhere, Eugene. Yes, right here at the opera. So, do you like hearing me whisper to you about this beautiful stiffie you're stroking for me, young man?"

Eugene nodded repeatedly, breathlessly:

"Are you close to squirting now, listening to all this dirty talk about your cock and your hot spunk, wanking as you watch my own fingers ride my wet cunt? You are, aren't you?"

Eugene nodded feverishly again.

"Quite close, I'm sure. Perhaps you're thinking about splattering your come all over my naked bush like a bad, bad boy, watching yourself spurt all that white stickiness on all this black hairiness, and then rubbing your slimy knob over my fur-lined slit afterwards as I howl in glee with your mess all over me. Are you? Does that help you? Will that help this big boy burst? I think it will, don't you? Yes, you just think about all that, but be sure and tell me when you're going to come, because, you know, I'm a very very very naughty lady, Eugene, even naughtier than you think" -- at this her voice in his ear grew even huskier -- "and I'm just dying to milk all that sticky come myself with my own little hand in its smooth silky glove, yes I am. You will let me be your little spunk milkmaid, won't you, Eugene? Please, please say you'll let me."

He nodded assent yet again, unable to take his eyes off Rhona's gloved fingers moving in and out of her pussy as he jerked the glistening beast up and down. Suddenly he panted, "Now, it's now, I'm going to come, Belinda, I'm coming," and released the twitching pole. Rhona's eyes opened wide as saucers as she removed her dripping fingers from her cunt and began to stroke him ever so slowly.

"Yes, come for me", she panted, staring open-mouthed at it as she milked him. "I'm going to empty this beautiful big cock of yours, Eugene, look, yes I am, oh Lord, I certainly am, I swear I am, I'm going to jerk out every drop of your salty spunk, watch, watch, with this hand all slick and sticky from my own juice ... you can see my girlie gunk shining all over my glove here, can't you? Oh, I so want to feel this big dick throb between my fingers as your warm cream shoots out of it. So squirt for me, Eugene. Let's watch you come together..."

And indeed Eugene then watched himself come like he never had before in his life, sperm raining all over him as he did his utmost to roar inwardly for fear of the noise. A spellbound Rhona excitedly counted off the ejaculations, keeping up a rapid running commentary and moving her hand slowly up and down his shuddering rod all the while:

"One, oh yes, that's it, yes, here I am wanking your cock and watching it come, Eugene," she breathed, as the first rope spurted over his lapel, "... number two, oh, there it goes, all this beautiful hot mess I'm jerking out from your spunk cannon" -- right on to his tie -- "... three, oh God, oh my, right over there -- she had shifted a little in her excitement, and the third shot had leapt high over his left shoulder and hit the wall behind him, whereupon she began to stroke him just that little bit faster -- "... four, oh, keep going, Eugene, yes, oh yes, oh, it makes me so hot and horny watching your cock come" -- a huge splatter on the V of his waistcoat -- "... five, yes, oh fuck yes, more hot sperm, oh, your cock's throbbing and throbbing so hard in my hand here, Eugene" -- right up two feet in the air as she moved again, landing back down on the leg of his trousers -- "... six, look, oh look, Eugene, big John Thomas spat spunk all over me!" -- a long thick stream had spewed over the arm of her left glove -- "... seven, oh, did you see that, I shot it over my fingers, and it's all over my dress too! ... "eight ... nine .... ..... ten .... ...... ....... eleven .... ELEVEN, oh, oh Eugene, look at all the sticky gooey semen I've milked out of your naughty knob! ... ELEVEN!" -- as his member began to spurt less and less, and was finally reduced to dribbling over her fist and between her fingers, all down his shaft and on to the bottom of his waistcoat and the floor.