The Fair Tea Maker

The scene so worthy of being painted. A portrait of myself seated in my library. The room so ordered, so perfect for a scholar such as myself. The painter catching the firelight on Silene's exposed skin, her pose one of classical abandonment, her hair spread across my thighs and so clearly engaged in fellatio. Perhaps rather than me naked I would be formally dressed and with an expression of great contentment. Could my painter achieve that indication to the person admiring the picture that I was in the midst of the most perfect spend in the young woman's mouth?

That first spend in Silene's mouth. How I adored her for it. No expression of surprise - though she could but know what the outcome would be - no uncouth spitting out of the mucilage but just a gentle swallowing and a refined rising from her task with a smile to her face.

Pleasant to sit in front of the fire and talk with Silene as she poured more tea. My pego relaxed and perhaps seeping a little, Silene with her ever glow of female excitement and nipples extended. How charming it would be if, perhaps after we had dined, that we could have danced. Removed the tea table from the front of the fire and danced there. Naked, but of course naked, and with my pego extended! A dance of passion culminating at the fifth measure in copulation - the dance of love. But, alas, we had no string quartet or rough village troop of musicians to play for us. We had the virginals upon which Silene ventured some mornings but she could not, alas, play and dance at one and the same time.

The outcome of our sojourn in the white cottage and my repeated presence within dear Silene were unlikely to be other than her being with child. Our copulation had been too frequent, too intense, for any other result to be expected from the acts. The obvious womanly swelling began but with no reduction whatsoever in her appetite for the carnal act. Again and again my pego entered her smooth canal, again and again the mucilage was discharged.

At four o'clock the fair tea maker. Beautiful in her nakedness whilst I sat, on most days, perfectly suited with neat cravat as the stimulating golden liquid was poured into the two cups. Silene with the female swelling of impending motherhood and her growing breasts. Sometimes she would take my manly fluid from me as I sat there drinking tea. Such a pleasure to discharge into her waiting mouth knowing too she would want again to be pleasured between her legs when the time for nightly rest came to us.

So much carnal lust, so much coitus and fellation, so much... ah, did the cunnilingus before the fire so surprise dear Silene.

"Dr. Mutluyorsun - NO!" I can remember her shocked ejaculation even now. But I completed the act. Silene confided in me it was more efficacious even than Dr. Tron________'s treatment that I had applied and was quite scandalised when I suggested she tried it on her friend, Aesthetia Moselroyde.

Sufficient carnality for a man to last his lifetime. The laced Essencia gave no respite for Silene from her desire and I bathed and revelled in its lusty outpourings. Enough for a lifetime indeed.

Alas the seasons are as unstoppable as time itself and with the change in season came the thaw. I heard the dripping of water when I awoke one morning. I stood looking from shutters thrown open at the landscape and the blue sky, realising so clearly what it would mean. Within days the pass would be open. I turned from the window with heavy heart but firm pego and returned to my bed and sweet, dear Silene knowing she would open for me. My use, should I call it that, of Silene increased rather than decreased. At four I sat naked in the firelight and Silene did not simply drink tea. I held Silene tight after our nightly coitus knowing soon she would be lost to me.

Three days later I saw them coming. Black were their horses. I stood at the open shutters staring towards the pass and the tiny black moving specks that denoted riders. I was naked, my pego dripping from recent coitus with Silene. It would be my last. Within the bedchamber Silene lay looking as beautiful as ever, a flush on her cheeks whether from coitus or the obvious swelling from her child I did not know. Between her legs the so clear evidence of my recent spend. I kissed her tenderly but could not bring myself to tell her that her husband was riding closer and closer.

Flight, yes flight. My horse soon saddled. Snorting and excited at the thought of being out after long months cooped within its stable it pawed the ground. I mounted and rode. I rode hard for they, riding with the accursed ______, were near at hand.

All I had, all I was, I knew was thrown away for Silene with her arms as pale as the dawn and her smile so youthful, so innocent. I rode hard across the land but the riders were gaining on me; they had not halted at the white cottage, as I had hoped, but had carried on the chase. Their quarry in sight.

Never again the delight of Silene serving tea. Never again the delights of Silene, my one true love. But always ______ would know, would know what I had done and every time he looked at his first born would know this child was not his, would know that this son, I could not believe it was other, this boy who would inherit his name and title was not his but mine. And always Silene would look with motherly adoring eyes on that child of mine.

They were closing, closing with sabres raised but they would not take me. I would outwit the so loathed ________ yet. He of the puny pego.

The beautiful pastureland of Nareemburg, verdant and rich for the quiet cattle with their bells that would, within weeks, ring out in the warm spring air came to an abrupt end at the heights of Nareemburg. A dreadful abrupt ending of the land as it plummeted down and down hundreds of metres to the valley below. A fearsome edge between land and sky and it was towards that edge that I rode.

On I rode but they were gaining, their mounts the stronger, and before me the wide expanse of the high pain becoming shorter and shorter as I rode towards its ending. There was no let up in my race forward, no respite for my mount, foaming at the mouth and its eyes wide, as we went over the edge. Behind us, no doubt, the other riders pulling their careering horses to a halt aghast at the sight greeting them and the knowledge their quarry was lost.

Oh, the falling, the falling into space, down and down towards the far off valley floor, the horse kicking as it falls below, oh, the falling, the...