Jacque and the Tiara

When he was sufficiently firm, she tossed her leg over his thighs and mounted him as she had done before. This time he was not content to be taken, however. Pulling himself up on his elbows, he reached around her waist with first one arm, then the other. He pulled himself up to her then bore down upon her with his weight, forcing her back onto the luxurious carpet beneath them. He stroked furiously into her several times in this arrangement, then, with a strength that surprised her, he managed to pull his legs underneath him and lift her from the floor, with enough leverage that soon he was standing erect, her legs wrapped firmly around his waist. Her bottom rested on his pintle.

Coupled in this manner, he walked the few steps to a richly upholstered love seat. He dropped to his knees again, so that her back rested on the cushions, and she raised her silk-covered legs to his shoulders. In this situation, his cock could easily move in many different ways, filling her deeply, stimulating the top, bottom and sides of her moistened quim. His right hand moved around her leg and he gently rubbed the small hood at the top, causing amorous groans to emanate from the Countess.

His strokes quickened to match the motion of her hips as the passion gradually mounted within her. He placed his free hand underneath a breast, and squeezed the nipple gently between his finger and thumb. The flickering of the candles revealed a sublime face, and sparkled radiantly in the gems of the tiara. Her eyes closed and her mouth fell open, gasping for air. Her breathing became rapid and short, and low sounds rose from deep within her until her ecstasy climaxed in a wild frenzy of bucking and thrashing and grunting.

Her fury subsided, and he rocked into her gently a few more times as her motion decreased. He withdrew, then picked her up and carried her to her boudoir, laying her beneath her fine linen sheets. He joined her there and cradled her head against his neck, where she cooed and breathed deeply, contentedly, kissing his cheek before falling asleep.

She awoke him later that night and they made love again, slowly and tenderly, and he remembered why he'd left her, and why he would never allow them to part again. And when he asked her, she did not hesitate to answer.

The morning sun rose on the irate mobs marching to the despised prison, their angry roar echoed from the walls of the empty apartment as a swift coach left a dusty cloud on the dirt road to Brest, where a heavily-laden ship awaited two more passengers before setting sail to New Orleans.

*****

NOTE: The inspiration for this fiction, the diamond tiara, now resides as a lasting monument to their love in the Smithsonian Museum of American History, in Washington, D.C., U.S.A.