The Rich Suitor

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The Rich Suitor

A sexual dalliance in Georgian England turns serious

This story is entirely fictional

Lord Douglas Shelbourne was admitted to Silchester House but on being ushered into the presence of Lady Francis Nayland found the young widow to be without her usual chaperone.

They talked of inconsequential matters whilst a tray of drinks was laid on a sideboard but once this was done Lady Francis stopped the departing servant before he reached the door.

“Mark me well Thomas. Under no circumstances, and I mean none, are we to be disturbed.”

She was dressed that morning in a cream dress which fell to the floor from a high waistline although revealing a pretty pair of doe skin slippers whenever she moved. The Lady was perhaps taller and slimmer than was currently fashionable but with her naked shoulders under artfully arranged tendrils of heavy blond hair she presented an arousing picture.

However his eyes were soon, and inescapably, drawn to her décolletage for even by the standards of the day this was daringly low. So low that Douglas could occasionally glimpse the rouged nipples which tipped her young firm breasts.

But as the servant finally departed Francis took a deep breath and lifted her shoulders which then revealed to his ardent gaze the puffy circles of her pronounced areole’s.

He made a rapid calculation as to her age even as he pointedly adjusted his britches to accommodate the tumescence stirring in his loins and concluded that this coquettish woman, despite her short lived marriage, had still only recently reached eighteen years of age. Douglas then began to wonder whether her dead husband had ever ploughed that nubile furrow, had ever cum in that no doubt sweet cunny let alone toyed with those barely adult globes, for the noble Duke had been elderly and infirm before he had finally tottered to the alter.

But happy with the effect she had caused upon his person Milady then turned away to subside elegantly upon a chaise where leaning back seductively she made the purpose of her invitation crystal clear.

“Sir, one of the few advantages of being a widow is that I may take a lover without fear of censure.”

But despite this unusually direct announcement His Lordship was not in any way disconcerted. In fact he had already detected the slight nervousness well hidden behind her forward behaviour so his reply was simply an endeavour to discover her true experience in matters of sexual dalliance.

“You have someone in mind Milady?”

This question caused an instant moue, a pursing of her pretty mouth, which unwisely betrayed her annoyance but upon realising the mistake Milady snapped open a fan to partially conceal her face before constructing a more considered reply.

“Sir you are trifling with me and that does you no credit.”

“Then please accept my abject apologies, dear Lady.”

So it was inconclusive. Was she practised in the art of love and did she habitually spread her favours around or, as he strongly suspected, was this invitation merely a desire to cleave with him alone? As a result however he began watching the young lady even more closely. But whilst fully appreciating the allure which she effortlessly gave out, Douglas slowly came to a realisation that whatever the truth of the matter he would not be adverse to dallying with such a desirable woman.

Lord Douglas had never considered himself to be a womaniser for, despite the many opportunities thrown up during the extensive campaigns in which he had fought, he had never bedded women indiscriminately. However here was something very different being offered, this fragrant flower was no camp follower, and it seemed being offered without preconditions. Indeed what was on offer appeared to be solely for her own enjoyment and required no commitment on his behalf. No pledge of marriage was needed nor did she appear intent on ransacking his purse for she was already extremely wealthy.

However he was interrupted in his musings when she rose and approached the sideboard whilst displaying a conscious grace to which he was not immune. What delights were hidden beneath the light and filmy day dress, what sweet perfumed cunt was waiting to be plundered?

“A glass of wine sir?”

“Thank you but not now Milady, maybe later.”

Lady Francis turned and knowing full well that she made a desirable picture returned to her seat. Then whether the young woman discerned a favourable conclusion to his musings, or the offer of becoming her lover was fortuitously timed, it was certain that when she finally beckoned him to her side he obeyed without hesitation. But as he approached she was left in no doubt of his intentions for the impressive erection stretching the velvet of his britches was unmistakeable.

“Sir, you do me great honour.” She murmured even as she reached out to fondle the bulge in his unmentionables and he smiled in appreciation when she continued in a breathless voice. “I have heard tales of your Antalya Travesti prowess in that department and am gratified to find that your…your…pizzle exceeds all promise.”

In response Douglas simply opened the buttons at his groin as a precursor to releasing the object of her admiration but impatient for a clearer view she lifted his shirt tails and freed the brute herself.

“Oh Milord.” She began breathing unsteadily as his engorged member sprang free and bobbed in greeting. “The helmet is so red, so inflamed, and so…so magnificent.”

He moved closer and straddled her thighs thus presenting his erection to her face. She leant forward as if mesmerised and took the head in her mouth then tentatively swallowed the precum. In response he placed one hand behind her head before pushing forward to begin fucking her mouth and as he gradually sped up the thrusts she bared her breasts to pull on the erect nipples.

He was so big that initially she was unable to breathe but by timing the gulps of air to coincide with his partial withdrawals she managed eventually not to suffocate and along with the combined pleasure of her own ministrations and the triumph of luring this man to her side she rapidly orgasmed. But in search of his own main event he then disengaged from Milady’s mouth and threw up the hem of her dress.

Still in the paroxysm of a violent orgasm she opened her legs in acceptance as he knelt before her but in the event Lady Francis needed to do no more than provide the receptacle. He guided himself home into the now well lubricated passage, opening her up as if spitting an enemy with his lance, and then began his own path to nirvana.

Lord Douglas said not a word as he ploughed the virginal but frequently dildoed cunny with a thoroughness that raised her to a second cataclysmic spend before he withdrew with a grunt and covered her shapely little belly with his semen. Despite her avowed lack of interest in the marriage mart he had no intention of fathering some unfortunate child who might make a claim on his estate.

She felt the jerks as he came and the heat of his puddled discharge on her skin then sought his eyes when he rose but they were unseeing, glazed over, as he casually used his shirt tail to clean his still stiff weapon. She then watched fascinated as he stroked the full length three or four times. Would he seek to enter her again? But sadly for her he buttoned the still stiff erection away before making his way to the sideboard where he gulped down a large bumper of claret.

“Lady Francis,” he finally spoke as she eventually thought to push down her dress and belatedly restore her neck line to cover the still flushed breasts, “I give you thanks for this very pleasant interlude and hope that you will allow me to call again.”

“By all means,” she replied whilst feeling that the delicious pain at her orifice was a small price to be paid for the attentions of such a virile man. “As often as you may desire.”

So with this promise of future assignations Lord Douglas took his leave knowing that despite the pleasures both given and received he had not promised anything nor would he on any subsequent visits.

Lady Francis meantime retired to her bedchamber where she permitted her wide eyed abigail to remove the evidence of his copious discharge.

“Better there than pregnant,” she murmured before dismissing the maid and pleasured herself once more with a realistically crafted if rather smaller artificial substitute.


By evening however she was filled with ennui. The drab company at dinner had been enough to drive a lively young woman to despair and with no dancing available that night she sought refuge in the admiration of her own body. With the last of the mid-June daylight still streaming through her window she had already cast off every stitch of clothing and was parading before a cheval mirror.

Lady Francis had been widowed within six months of her marriage and having never had any regard for her elderly consumptive husband was in no way discommoded by the loss. Indeed his infirmity had stopped the true consummation of the marriage although on one occasion he had managed to ejaculate high on her thigh. But as for piercing her hymen he was to prove singularly unsuccessful. However all this shilly-shallying took no account of her passionate nature and goaded by desire she had, once the marriage ceremony was over, terminated her own virginity by the regular use of a dildo thoughtfully secreted in the bridal chest by her own mother.

However at the tender age of seventeen she had become the Dowager Countess and having never been pregnant her body was still much as it had been after she had left the school room.

However in no way could her charms be considered unformed for even at the time of his proposal Milady was an acknowledged beauty and with her sweet face and her nubile form she had from puberty been an object of men’s desire. The firm Konya Travesti breasts set high on her chest with the pronounced puffy surrounds to her nipples might have been considered her crowning glory but running them a very close second were her long shapely legs or maybe even her fine back which so sensually swelled out into pronounced child bearing hips.

Meanwhile as she cupped those very breasts and turned her head to see the reflection of her apple shaped buttocks she felt the first tingle of desire in her clitoris. She stretched luxuriously as the button became filled with blood and forced it’s way out of the enclosing sheath before she was inexorably drawn to mount the arm of her favourite chair.

“Ahhhh.” Was the only sound uttered as she began humping the padded arm rest. With one slim foot planted on the floor and a knee on the seat she began the familiar and pleasurable exercise which she had enjoyed since childhood. A pleasure which had lead to orgasm as she grew older and was her preferred method until the use of a dildo had virtually taken over.

Having only ever known the joy of onanism until Lord Douglas had lately shown another way she was now resolved to repeat that experience as often as she could manage but in the meantime the memory of his weapon could also give added spice to her solo gratification.

“Lord Douglas, now I’m ready for your staff of life. Be my stallion, fill me full…oh…oh…oh…yes…now it’s coming…yes…yes…it’s here…yes…yes…like that…keep moving…ahhhhhhhh…now I am melting.”

As the climax hit Milady fell sideways to the floor where she curled up savouring the all consuming release, welcoming the spasms which racked her body and looking forward to a repeat visit from the Duke, Milord Douglas.


The repetitive strokes of the brush being drawn through her hair and the feel of her erect nipples moving against the nightshift had caused Lady Francis’s mind to drift. She was recalling her childhood and the delicious feelings that had at times invaded her body for from the age of five, no that’s too early, from the age of six she could remember the pleasure of touching herself between the legs. That was until rudely interrupted by her nurse who had caught the little girl on one eventful day. From then on she had learnt to be circumspect.

“Milady, wake up, I cannot brush your hair properly if you persist in lolling back.”

She did her best to stop her eyes closing but in seeking another direction for her thoughts she merely alighted upon an equally arousing subject which involved her two younger brothers and the same nurse. Before Lady Francis’s removal to a separate bedchamber she had woken one night to the sound of her older brother, was he five or six at the time, grizzling and then saw the arrival of the woman who within minutes had succeeded in quietening the lad.

What is she doing had thought Francis whilst successfully feigning sleep. She could see the woman’s arm moving rhythmically and in the candle light realised with a jolt that she was pulling at her brothers little pizzle which seemed to have grown in her hand. In minutes he was back asleep but her curiosity had been roused and many was the night when a fractious boy was persuaded into sleep by the very same actions. Had the nurse still being practising the same treatment once the two boys had reached puberty? Perhaps the unmarried woman had enjoyed her illicit actions.

But far more disturbing had been catching her older brother hunched over his pumping hand as he watched a footman having his way with a young maid. Lady Francis at the age of fourteen was entirely familiar with the farmyard and the antics of the servants but to see her sixteen year old revered brother, the future Baron, behaving in such a manner was a shock.

She had tried to retreat but it was a forlorn hope.

“Come here.” His voice was ragged as she obeyed and stood meekly as he continued his actions almost without a pause although his eyes now seemed concentrated upon her alone.

“Raise your dress sister. Let me see your cunnie.”

She had done as requested and he immediately redoubled his efforts

“I expect you’ve seen a…a…a…man cum?” He could barely speak by now. Was it her presence which emboldened him to further exertions for it was certain that the original reason for his prurient actions was now over. The two servants had ceased their copulation many minutes before but even without that sight her brother’s manhood appeared to have grown.

Lady Francis merely nodded yes to his question although her eyes were wide with wonder as he straightened and shot great gobs of cum to splatter against the lime washed wall.

Having also silently cum herself Francis had then taken the opportunity to flee but now, when a vicious pull on her hair recalled the widow to the present, she pushed the hairbrush away.

“Enough girl. I can manage now. Get yourself off to bed.”

Now İzmir Travesti all Lady Francis wanted was to reach her own climax and then the rapid descent into sleep which would surely follow.


Meanwhile Lord Douglas was having his own sexual problems.

Being normally a man who when dancing would expect to be stirred by an attractive woman’s body he had lately found that none of his partners even stirred his senses let alone caused an erection to form.

“You are not with me Milord,” complained one partner who had previously had cause to appreciate his prowess but was now missing the evidence of his upright manhood against her soft stomach.

So he sent prior word and later called once again on the Dowager Countess and both were thankful to find that his blood was up once again. But sadly for them both he was soon recalled to his regiment thus putting an end to the short lived affair.


In miserable Spring quarters somewhere on the Spanish/Portuguese border Lord Douglas lay on an uncomfortable straw palliasse while reflecting upon the charms of a particular young woman back home in England.

“Dear god what would I give to have her fragrant body beneath me right now, to lift her hem and bury my weapon in her tight cunny and shoot my load on her alabaster stomach, that little round pot which so sensually shapes all her clinging garments.”

Did she ever think of him? Did she dream of his ardour for he had been told that women could sometimes be far more basic than was described in poetic verse? Could he possibly find a clean woman in this war torn country to relieve his aching balls? Perhaps one of the wild gypsies he had seen the previous day, maybe the naked woman he had seen bathing in the river with her long black hair spilling down her back? But all those desires suddenly became unnecessary as a month or more of pent up semen pumped into his small clothes and he subsided with a gasp onto the pack beneath his head.


In the event it was a long two years before Major, the Lord Douglas was back in London Society. Two long years since that last sexual encounter with Lady Francis but for him the memory was undiminished. Apart from a slight limp and a virtually healed sabre cut across one cheek he had survived in sharp contrast to many of his friends.

“Milord, do you remember me?”

It was she, met fortuitously in an undistinguished drawing room whilst both were making morning calls. The girl whose vivid remembrance had enabled him to endure the ever present and debilitating danger was suddenly before him.

“Duchess, how could I ever forget…?” His voice broke as her well remembered presence swept over him even as her eyes were exploring his wounds. However he recovered to ask a question upon which he now realised could ruin all his hopes for the future. “But perhaps your title has changed since we last met?”

“No sir.” She had almost reached out to caress his scarred cheek but conscious of others being present had let the hand drop to her side. “My late husband and I certainly had no offspring and the distant heir is still in the nursery so I will remain the Dowager Duchess for some time.”

“You have no wish to remarry?”

This question was perhaps beyond the limits of normal polite conversation, far too intrusive to even expect a reply, but given their past relationship she seemed unperturbed.

“There is only one man to whom I would give up my independence and he has sadly not yet come up to the mark.”

The import of her declaration and the reference to duelling parlance was not lost on the Duke but she was not yet finished.

“My direction has not changed. Might you resume your calls?”

So once again after a two year interruption he was again closeted with Lady Francis. Although two years had gone by since their last encounter her body had scarce changed. Perhaps her breasts were a trifle fuller but the silky slope of her shoulders still made him catch his breath as she swept an unfastened curtain of hair away from her face.

Again he reckoned up her age. Twenty if he was not mistaken and still ripe for plucking. How many men had she lain with since he had departed for the Iberian wars? How many men had held this unparalleled charmer in their arms and then given way to the invitation in her eyes which was even now being directed his way. Well he was not one to hold back but when he sought entry for his swollen weapon she cried out in pain before after a moment of indecision urging him on.

However a combination of his long held desire for this woman and her still tight cunny curtailed his enjoyment for he was forced to withdraw within minutes before shuddering to a peak which drained him of all strength and left Milord gasping between her semen stained thighs.

But she merely held him close, rejoicing in his presence once again for during his absence she had only once allowed her needs to overcome a reluctance to lie with any other man. That particular coupling had in truth never really taken place for the naval officer had ejaculated even before entry and Milady having then sworn to remain faithful to the absent soldier henceforth returned to her own ministrations.

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