Chapter 22: The Rhythm of Life

On the Fifth Day of Christmas I was again unfaithful to the memory of my wife.
In fact I was unfaithful to her memory for the remainder of the Twelve Days. First with Paloma on the Fourth and Fifth Days, then with Lillian on the Sixth and Seventh Days, and then with both, on days Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, and Twelve.

I was more assured and confident in my abilities during my assignation with Paloma on the Fifth Day of Christmas. I took the lead in the galloping, and this time managed to hold back my release until Paloma reached hers, or at least gave the impression she had reached fulfillment.
Whores are better than actresses when it comes to playacting.
Whether she reached her pinnacle or not made no difference to the deluge of delight which engulfed me as I galloped the talented, lusty, and dexterous, harlot. Paloma was young, silky skinned, and firm breasted. A female equipped with a tongue which catapulted me into a paroxysm of lust when applied to my body; plunger, mouth, nipples, nugs, and sundry other places I am too embarrassed to mention.

On the Sixth Day of Christmas I found Lillian waiting for me at Madam Whipcrack’s. She smiled broadly when observing my pleasure at seeing her, but probably did not register my quickly controlled look of surprise, for I had been expecting Paloma. I took Lillian’s hand and raised it to my lips.

“I called to see you the day before yesterday but you were unavailable.”

“I was available yesterday. You could have visited me then, but I expect you were busy with other things.”

I did not enlighten her as to what other things I had been engaged with the day before.
Hand in hand we entered her room, where I took my time in undressing her, savouring her sweet flesh as portions of her shapely body became tantalisingly visible. By the time she was fully naked I was rampant and hot for her. She welcomed me inside with a gasp of pleasure, and I lodged myself deep in her tight, clinging, madge.

Seagrave and his cronies had cruelly used Lillian, and I was determined to show her some men take time and effort to pleasure a female, even a whore, and employed all the tricks and devises calculated to bring a woman to an ecstatic fulfillment. When Lillian reached a seemingly unfeigned orgasm I was as proud as when first inducing a similar response from an acolyte at the Temple in Lincoln.
Of course, I may have been deluded both times; the first thing a whore learns is how to give an ‘authentic’ depiction of achieving a climax.

Where Paloma was skilled and ingenious Lilian was enthusiastic and ingenuous, in fact she could have been any besotted girl with her lover.
She emitted the right sounds, and gasped the right words, at the right times, and I was content to take them at face value and believe she had reached her peak, and that her shudders of rapture were real.
My responses to her ministrations were certainly not feigned, and I shouted, bellowed, groaned, and moaned in delight as her inexperienced mouth and madge – relatively inexperienced madge – drew juices gushing from my nugs in far greater quantity than even Paloma had managed. I took this to mean whatever constraint had been present in my galloping equipment was now well and truly removed. John Thomas was proudly rampant, and swiftly regenerated each time Lillian had worn him down.

I left an exhausted Lillian lying sated in a tangle of sweat and love juiced sheets.
I had been careful not to mar her alabaster skin with love bites on her breasts, neck, or shoulders, but did decorate her inner thighs with some marks of my passion. Her voracious mouth had travelled all over my body, but she had not reciprocated with brands of her own, an omission I hoped to see rectified at our next meeting.

On the Seventh Day of Christmas Lillian and I indulged in the manoeuvres, contortions and convolutions I had intended to commit with her on my first visit to Madam Whipcrack’s; viz, dirty, sweaty, heaving, biting and sucking, carnal, sexual intercourse.
Which we did – many times – with shrieking, screaming, and moaning, as Lillian abandoned herself to the shattering experience of the frenzed sexual ecstasy she was receiving, or possibly what she intended I would think she was receiving. She endowed me with a set of vivid love bites, requiring my stock to be worn several inches higher than usual for a week or so.
My chest and shoulders also bore the imprint of Lillian’s small but sharp teeth, when she bit me as she, presumably, disappeared over the precipice of passion for the third time of asking.

That evening, as I limped back to Rob’s lodgings in Haymarket – Lillian had been rather over enthusiastic when sucking my nugs – I wondered how we could surpass the heights of pleasure reached that evening. Perhaps by using different positions and methods of copulations?
Earlier that day I had attempted the canine mode of entry to her madge, a variation Lillian had not encountered before.
She tensed as I entered her portal, and I quickly withdrew, asking why she was not comfortable with what I was doing.

“I have never been penetrated in this position before, and am uneasy that your penis is very close to my anus. What if you should slip out from my Lady Jane in to that hole, that dirty hole? It would be a filthy and disgusting act and...”

I stopped her with a kiss. “When we first met you were advertising a trip around the world, where you said all your portals were available for the explorer. I took that to include your anus?”

“It is true I was offering the experience, but had you taken me up on the offer it would have been my first time, and I was terrified.”

I tenderly stroked her hair. “When held tight in your madge – your Lady Jane – John Thomas is not about to quit his luscious billet for any other, well, certainly not by mistake. Wash your anus before we next conjoin, and then should I misjudge my target I would not be entering a dirty aperture but one as clean as your Lady Jane – or your mouth.”

Lillian blushed, as I had not long removed John Thomas from the latter orifice.
“Very well, Colonel. Tomorrow I will wash, thoroughly, and you may then enter me from behind.”

On the Eighth Day of Christmas Big Mac admitted me to Madam Whipcrack’s establishment as usual, but instead of Lillian waiting demurely for me in the anteroom I found her and Paloma, smiling sweetly at me with their arms about each other.

“Well, Elijah. Which of us shall you take to bed? Or perhaps you are lusty enough to entertain us both at the same time?” Paloma said.

It was not a difficult choice to make, and the girls each took hold of one of my hands and ran me giggling up the stairs to Paloma’s, larger, room.
Only when both girls were standing before me naked did I note the similarities, and the differences, between them.

The similarities were in their ages. I imagined Paloma was several years older than Lillian, but was surprised to learn they were born in the same year, and Paloma was only eight months the elder. Both girls were approximately the same height; both well shaped and firm fleshed in the bosom department. I knew, from close acquaintance, Paloma’s breasts were slightly fuller, and her small, black, cone shaped nipples required lip and tongue attention before becoming hard and erect. Lillian’s breasts were slightly smaller, but equally firm and well shaped, and tipped with pink nipples which swelled into succulent strawberries as soon as my mouth captured one of those delightful buds.
The main difference between the two was their colouring. Paloma had golden, wheat coloured hair, a dusky, olive complexion, and blue eyes. Lillian was alabaster white skinned, her hair a chesnut brown, and her eyes grey. The hair around Paloma’s madge, or quim, as she called that portal, consisted of springy, thick-clustered curls, slightly darker than the hair on her head. Lillian’s madge hair was silky soft and dark brown, making an inviting contrast to her pale skin.