My first time with cousin Camelia
Introduction:
Upper Class English seduction around 1800
The sunlight streamed through the drawing room window as the rain clouds slowly drifted away.
In the distance a carriage approached. A coach and four not any ordinary coach. My Aunt Thomas.
I dreaded her visits. Ever since father died she had been incessant in her nagging that I should wed.
I waited dutifully at the bottom of the steps. Aunt Thomas, Father’s sister. The wife of one Henry Thomas and that precocious brat Miss Camelia Thomas, Henry’s daughter from a pervious marriage.
Temptress Camelia. Dazzling white gown. Dazzling white smile. Ruby red lips and far far far too young.
I forced my member to subside as she swayed her hips provocatively as she followed her mother up the steps towards me.
My heart sank, “Good day aunt. Did you have a pleasant journey.”
“No,” she replied. “Have you been expecting us?”
“Ah, no.” I admitted.
“Oh Edward, still not married?” Camelia asked coyly.
“No, nor engaged,” I admitted. “Despite your mother’s meddling.”
Aunt Thomas ignored me.
“Then you shall have to marry me!” Camelia chirped.
“Oh Cam, you know you’re far too young,” I sighed.
“Ohhh you are impossible!” she snapped. She strode past me determinedly. I followed sheepishly.
“It is quite, quite intolerable,” Aunt Thomas snapped. “Living alone, with all those serving girls.”
“Aunt may I assure you,” I started to say.
“Pah, save you breath,” she sighed. “Have you no refreshment for us?”
“Yes Aunt,” I assured her. “Cook!”
Cook appeared as surly as ever. “Yes young master?” she said in her condescending way.
“Some refreshment for My Aunt please,” I suggested.
“Take me an hour,” she said.
“Oh good lord this is intolerable!” Aunt Thomas said angrily “I shall sit down, Camelia, try and talk some sense into Edward would you.”
I held out my hand, Camelia gripped it and she pulled me firmly out towards the terrace.
“Why won’t you marry me?” she asked.
“You’re too young,” I insisted.
“I am of age,” she replied firmly.
“That may be so, but I need a woman, not a child.” I explained, “Marriage is not just hugs and kisses. Men have needs. I have needs. Carnal needs Camelia.”
“Which I am sure I can accommodate,” she replied as she stood by the balustrade.
“You know not what you say.” I replied. “I could not bear it if we conjoined and it pained you.”
“Oh Henry that is so selfish, what if someone else pains me?” Camelia asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“So why don’t we try?” she said.
“Cam!” I gasped, “Some decorum. Please.”
“Mummy will be snoring her head off, why don’t we slip up to your bedroom?” she suggested, “After all it s a well know fact one cannot get caught with a child the first time one conjoins.”
“That is cats,” I said, “And what know you of conjunction? I can assure you young ladies fill with child at the merest tough of a male member. Indeed I think you will find most young ladies find conjunction agonising at first.”
“Oh Edward, you are silly!” Camelia laughed, “Why I have been enjoying all manner of projections inside my parts, candles, hairbrush handles, why even a hearth brush handle.”
“Cam, that is disgusting!” I gasped.
“Would you like to see?” she asked coyly, “Of course you would!”
I just stared. She lifted the hem of her skirt. Dainty cream shoes. A dainty cream silk underskirt. Cream stockings. Pink suspenders, and nothing. No drawers, silk or otherwise. Just a neat triangle of blonde hairiness with a perfect peach like slit below. She stood her parts displayed as lewdly as any whore.
“Cam!” I pleaded.
“It is all right Edward, we can go upstairs,” she suggested.
“Oh Cam.” I sighed.
“Come,” she said and she took my hand.
I was helpless, putty in her hands. I followed like a lamb to the slaughter.
A bedroom. A bed. She led the way. Bolted the door behind us. Slipped off her skirts. Lay on the bed. Lay with her womans parts lewdly displayed. Her legs spread widely. Beckoning. Enticing.
I slipped off my jacket and breeches. Undershirt. Stockings. Everything.
My member reared. She stared. She seemed uncertain.
I touched her softness. I felt the moistness of her parts. I eased a finger into her cleft, one finger then another, then a third. It was inevitable.
I swung my knees between hers and guided my member into her softness. She screamed.
“It will pass,” I assured her. The delights of her sweet tight parts entranced me
“Agghhh,” she wailed.
“Hush it will pass,” I assured her again as I thrust deeper inside her.
“Nooooo,” she wailed, “It’s too big. Noooooo.”
And in love and lust I started to ooze and pump my love within her.
Tears poured down her pretty cheeks, “I hate you!” she snarled even as my seed flooded her parts.
I stilled, eased my member from her. “I warned you,” I said as I sat on the bed beside her and wiped my member on the bedclothes.
I put my arm around her shoulder, “It will ease,” I assured her.
“I am torn in half, I shall never walk again,” she protested.
“Cam,” I said quietly, “Shut up and kiss me.”
“No!” she replied. So I kissed her. Forcibly. On her lips. My hand went to her breast, slipping the buttons on her bodice. Easing her mounds from their constriction. Kneading them. Caressing her nipples.
“You are going to force me to conjoin again aren’t you?” she gasped as she felt my member stirring.
“Yes,” I said between kisses, “And” Kiss, “Again,” Kiss, “And again.”
She was wary. Scared. This time she allowed, rather than welcomed, me between, my rampant member between her legs, between her thighs, between the lips of her most secret part and deep inside her. Always expecting the pain.
Her beautiful face screwed up in anticipation. Anticipation of an agony which did not come.
My member slid easily in her warm moist cavern. Her look of concern softened.
I kissed her forehead as my member sank in so deep that his tip nuzzled the very end of her cavern where her womb was.
I kissed her eyebrows, then I kissed her mouth. My passion rose uncontrollably, my reserve out of consideration forgotten and I thrust into her with all my being.
Riding her like she was some common whore or milkmaid. Thinking only of my own pleasure, and oh what pleasure. I was in heaven and it was not momentary, she would be mine for always.
“Ohhhh,” I gasped as my poor straining balls were called upon for more jism so soon after an expellation. They served me well. A great gout of seed gushed forth so forcibly I thought it might emerge from her mouth. But all that came were gasps.
“Edward,” she said, “You ravished me. You used me wantonly. Why?”
“I saw you as a child. You showed me you are a woman. I used you the the way a man uses his woman. For comfort and relief.”
“And love?” she asked.
“Lust, not love, you were my angel, now you are my whore.” I explained honestly, “There is no going back. We are lovers now. We can never return to being friends.”
“Oh my lord, what have I done,” she sighed as I still laid atop her. My member still within her. Relishing her warmth. Her warm breath upon my neck.
“Have you done?” she asked.
“Done, perhaps. Perhaps I do not wish this moment to end,” I suggested. “For who can tell where you end and I begin. Our bodies entwined. Our souls united.”
“Edward,” she said. “Kiss Me.”
I did her bidding, “I own, if we practice every day I own I could perhaps come to find our union tolerable.” she admitted.
“Thrice each morning and the same after supper more like my girl,” I said, “For I am a man with mannish appetites.”
My member stiffened once more even though I had cast my seed.
“Edward,” she said, “This is how I imagined love would be. Tender. Gentle. Loving.”
“It is rather pleasant,” I agreed, “But casting my seed is the pinnacle do you see?” I explained. The searing heat of love bursting forth to scatter my seed far and wide.”
“It douses my flames. Soothes me,” she said. “When may we be wed?”
“Who cares?” I said, “I have made you mine already, but shall we say three weeks for reading the Banns and.”
“Oh Henry, I love you so much!” she squealed.
And with that my member stiffened once more and we were off to heaven once more.
We went downstairs afterwards. Two hours had passed.
“You really should oil the bed springs,” Aunt Thomas declaimed, “And bite your tongue Camelia, half the household heard your cries of ecstasy.”
“It was pain Mama,” Camelia protested.
“The first time perhaps,” I countered, “But not the other twice.”
“One and a half,” Camelia corrected, “The last time you didn’t squirt.”
“Dear god I’ve raised a whore!” Aunt Thomas cried, “I declare you must be wed now or it will be such a scandal!”
“Three weeks Saturday,” I declared, “But for now if you will excuse us, we have some more games to play.”
Camelia looked shocked, “Edward please!” she exclaimed.
“No go, enjoy yourselves,” Aunt Thomas encouraged, “But quietly lest you frighten the horses.”
