Desire and Despair: Book 3 of Poacher's Progress - Cover

Desire and Despair: Book 3 of Poacher's Progress

Copyright© 2014 by Jack Green

Chapter 1: Who's that Girl?

Historical Sex Story: Chapter 1: Who's that Girl? - Jack Greenaway's pathway to happiness is strewn with obstacles: a plagiarized novel and his sister's infatuation with a Romantic poet; an old, 15th century, law; a white lady in Brussels and a Black Guard at Chateau Blanchard; attendance at weddings - and funerals; going undercover in Manchester, and helping to foil an assassination plot. He overcomes these difficulties and his future looks assured until a blast from his past causes catastrophe.

Caution: This Historical Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Drunk/Drugged   Heterosexual   Historical   Tear Jerker   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Lactation   Slow   Violence   Prostitution   Military  

I don't know what woke me; it was barely light. No servants would be moving about the house at this early hour yet I doubted the sound had emanated from outside. My bedroom overlooked St James Park, a place deserted and silent for much of the day, more especially on such a blustery, wet, November morning. More likely it had been the wind which had roused me by whistling in the chimney flue. I lay there, luxuriating in the warmth and comfort of a feather bed with my ears pricked, but gradually I relaxed.

The female form next to me stirred, and soft arms wound around my neck and bore my head to her bosom. "I thought you would be still sound asleep, given the number of times you availed yourself of your conjugal rights throughout the night." She said softly in my ear.

I lifted my head from her breast and smiled. "As I recall, cherie, you, insisting on your rights, kept us both awake for such a time." She grinned and kissed me, slyly sliding her tongue into my mouth. For several minutes our tongues entwined and enjoyed each other until she withdrew the honey sweet interloper from my mouth and whispered. "I think it time to once again assert my rights. " Then she bestrode me and rode me.

We had concluded exercising our rights by full daylight, and now there was definite movement in the house. I heard light footsteps outside in the corridor, and then a tentative knock on the bedroom door.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"It's Molly, Master Jack. Shall you and..." I heard a half suppressed giggle, " ... Missus Greenaway be having breakfast in your room, or will you come down to the dining room?"

I gave 'Missus Greenaway' an interrogative look. She mouthed back at me. 'In our bedroom.'

"We shall have our breakfast served in here, Molly. Please ask cook to have it ready in half an hour."

"Yes Master Jack." I heard her walk away down the stairs.
Our tousled hair, flushed faces, and the tumbled and damp state of the bed clothes indicated an energetic night spent exercising rights. We made ourselves, and the bed linen, more presentable and I ensured those parts of my body showing the signs of passionate lust were well covered, as did my bed companion. She laid her head on my shoulder and, as we waited for our breakfast to be served, my mind went back to the day, almost two years ago, I had arrived back in London.


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