I mean hell, I'm not even a Harlequin romance novelist.
“Master Wentworth? Please come here,” shouted Penelope, her voice ringing out as loudly and clear as a crystal bell. “I have...need of you.” She smiled coquettishly to herself at the last; her rosy cheeks turning rosier at her saucy double entendre, her deep green eyes looking downwards. One hand drifted up to snag a dangling crimson ringlet, and twisted idly as she waited nervously. No answer came, and her smile faded away as she grew fearful. Was she too late? Did she wait too long to come? Had her beloved absconded with that accursed schoolmarm?
But then Penelope heard the roar of the toilet in the water closet and she smiled, her hopes soaring once again. Her slight smile erupted into a breathy gasp as the door opened. Charles Wentworth the Fourth emerged from the steaming bathroom, clad in naught but a fluffy, white towel with turtles on it. His broad, hairy chest was dripping with moisture, his thick, lustrous auburn hair wet and flat and with not a little bit of foam from his shampoo. “Penelope? Why...I...I mean, milady Swaddlesworth.” he said, straightening his broad back and shoulders. “Milady. How might I be of service?”
“Oh, Charles. Haven’t you had enough of these silly games?” Her lips spread in a broad smile, but her eyes sought his, pleading. Charles lifted his spectacles from a counter inside the bathroom door and furiously tried to wipe the steam from them to return her questing gaze. “Charles, I cannot pretend any longer. You have served our family long enow! The time has come for us to do away with the charades, and the games, and the charades and the games that we play for the sake of propriety, damnable propriety. I love you, Charles. And I know that you love me.”
Charles blinked, gasped. His mighty adam’s apple bobbing in that well-muscled throat with delighted surprise as like an apple bobs upon the sea. “Milady...oh, Penelope. I have so longed to hear such words...from you! From you.” He stepped forward, eyes squinted against the soapy water that now streamed down his broad forehead.
She went to him, ample bosom heaving. “Charles, I cannot live another moment without the touch of your lips against mine. I am like a turtle, to always see the sea but never to drink deep of it!”
“Well, turtles can breathe air,” replied Charles, wrapping his powerfully built arms around her waist, his grip warm with lust and bathwater.
“A tortoise then! Oh dear Charles, ever the tutor! Kiss me, dearest Charles! Oh, do kiss me!”
And he did, his lips crushing down upon hers as the sunset does upon the distant horizon. They kissed long and hard, sharing hot, gasping breaths and unpleasant, painful flinches as their front teeth clicked together.
Lost in passion, Penelope tried to speak again, but for Charles broad tongue stifling her lusty dialogue. Soon, he turned his attention to the soft angles of her neck, her ear. As he nuzzled her she gasped in ecstasy as his breath rasped in her ear, deafening her. “Charles, oh my darling Charles.” She pressed her face into his wet hair, to breathe in his scent but instead inhaled a small amount of stinging shower foam. She gasped again, this time in pain as the soap ran into her left eye, but Charles could not tell the difference.
He pulled away from her abruptly, and gazed deeply into her one open eye with his two brown ones, deep and soulful. His manhood was pressed painfully against her hoop skirt, but he did not care. He tenderly caressed her face with his left hand, a tender smile passing across his lips. “Penelope...” he murmured; trailing into silence as he had forgotten what he was going to say next.
Charles reached up with his big right hand and grasped the front of her bodice and tore at it savagely to free her heaving bosom. But they did not reckon on the sturdy fibers of her dress resisting his manly grasp, and instead of freeing her heaving breasts Charles instead jerked her back and forth violently, like a lovely rag doll in the fists of a petulant child. “Stop...STOP! I’ll do it already! ...beloved...” snapped Penelope, lovingly.
She fiddled with the laces and snaps and buttons and hooks of her dress, and within mere minutes she was naked. Soft pink and freckled flesh, she pressed her flesh against Charles’ own, her wet lips dancing across his chest hairs. She longed to kiss each and every one, though this task would take her a lifetime as he was quite the burly man. He moaned softly in pleasure, as he gently cupped her broad buttocks; one in each hand. He handled them gently but firmly, as the baker handles his loaves. Tender and patient, but at the same time knowing that a good, firm kneading was the way to do it.
“Charles, dearest Charles! I can take it no longer! Take me! I beseech you my darling, take me right here! Right now! Take me! Make me yours! Oh my love, I need to feel you, every bit of you! I need you! I want you! You tempt me so, I adore you I ADORE you! I love you, oh how I love you! Oh darling Charles, take me, make me a woman! Complete me, ravish me, love me! I can wait no longer! I need you now, no more waiting, take me now! I love you so, I need you so, take me!” she begged him, words tumbling over one another like snowflakes above a roaring fireplace.
“Yes!” he replied.
He lifted her then, his damp and cold towel falling unwanted to the floor about his ankles. stumbling a little over his towel, Charles laid her gently upon the bed and then pressed himself upon her, their lips and tongues dancing together like a pair of locomotives dancing in and out of their tunnels.
He pressed himself down onto her, into her and met her eyes. “I have longed for this moment for longer than I think you could ever know, dearest Penelope.” he whispered, again caressing her cheek softly with the blade of his hand. A broad smile crossed her lips as she hooked her ankles around his waist.
Ribbons of ecstasy tickling their souls, the purest pleasure of their congress vibrating through their physical forms as their hearts and minds soared on waves of joy. And then they were off, suddenly merged into one perfect being. A being made of two souls, molded into one purest form by a lifetime of longing and stolen glances, by years of unrequited love. In this moment, both Penelope and Charles were finally complete, were finally together. Those broad, gaping holes in their hearts were finally filled with the warm, pulsing light of love. In that moment, the couple knew purest happiness.
And then that moment passed, and in the next moment Charles’ body was wracked with spasms of more personal pleasure a tenfold more intense than the shared pleasure that they had both experienced a moment ago. Charles shook with the intensity of this feeling, his jaw clicking open and shut with its force. Small bubbles of spit formed and popped at his mouth, raining down onto Penelope’s sweaty breasts in tiny droplets of saliva.
And then it was done, Charles collapsing heavily onto Penelope’s suddenly rigid form. “Oh my darling, my darling! Sweetest Penelope, I never knew such bliss.” He wept now, his body limp and spent. “Such rapture! In all of my lonely years in this land, I have not felt such passion but in the deepest throes of secret, sweaty dreams. My love, my love! Tell me my love, tell me that you share this blessed euphoria!”
After a moment, Penelope replied. “...yeah, great."
THE SUN SETS ON PASSION
“Master Wentworth? Please come here,” shouted Penelope, her voice ringing out as loudly and clear as a crystal bell. “I have...need of you.” She smiled coquettishly to herself at the last; her rosy cheeks turning rosier at her saucy double entendre, her deep green eyes looking downwards. One hand drifted up to snag a dangling crimson ringlet, and twisted idly as she waited nervously. No answer came, and her smile faded away as she grew fearful. Was she too late? Did she wait too long to come? Had her beloved absconded with that accursed schoolmarm?
But then Penelope heard the roar of the toilet in the water closet and she smiled, her hopes soaring once again. Her slight smile erupted into a breathy gasp as the door opened. Charles Wentworth the Fourth emerged from the steaming bathroom, clad in naught but a fluffy, white towel with turtles on it. His broad, hairy chest was dripping with moisture, his thick, lustrous auburn hair wet and flat and with not a little bit of foam from his shampoo. “Penelope? Why...I...I mean, milady Swaddlesworth.” he said, straightening his broad back and shoulders. “Milady. How might I be of service?”
“Oh, Charles. Haven’t you had enough of these silly games?” Her lips spread in a broad smile, but her eyes sought his, pleading. Charles lifted his spectacles from a counter inside the bathroom door and furiously tried to wipe the steam from them to return her questing gaze. “Charles, I cannot pretend any longer. You have served our family long enow! The time has come for us to do away with the charades, and the games, and the charades and the games that we play for the sake of propriety, damnable propriety. I love you, Charles. And I know that you love me.”
Charles blinked, gasped. His mighty adam’s apple bobbing in that well-muscled throat with delighted surprise as like an apple bobs upon the sea. “Milady...oh, Penelope. I have so longed to hear such words...from you! From you.” He stepped forward, eyes squinted against the soapy water that now streamed down his broad forehead.
She went to him, ample bosom heaving. “Charles, I cannot live another moment without the touch of your lips against mine. I am like a turtle, to always see the sea but never to drink deep of it!”
“Well, turtles can breathe air,” replied Charles, wrapping his powerfully built arms around her waist, his grip warm with lust and bathwater.
“A tortoise then! Oh dear Charles, ever the tutor! Kiss me, dearest Charles! Oh, do kiss me!”
And he did, his lips crushing down upon hers as the sunset does upon the distant horizon. They kissed long and hard, sharing hot, gasping breaths and unpleasant, painful flinches as their front teeth clicked together.
Lost in passion, Penelope tried to speak again, but for Charles broad tongue stifling her lusty dialogue. Soon, he turned his attention to the soft angles of her neck, her ear. As he nuzzled her she gasped in ecstasy as his breath rasped in her ear, deafening her. “Charles, oh my darling Charles.” She pressed her face into his wet hair, to breathe in his scent but instead inhaled a small amount of stinging shower foam. She gasped again, this time in pain as the soap ran into her left eye, but Charles could not tell the difference.
He pulled away from her abruptly, and gazed deeply into her one open eye with his two brown ones, deep and soulful. His manhood was pressed painfully against her hoop skirt, but he did not care. He tenderly caressed her face with his left hand, a tender smile passing across his lips. “Penelope...” he murmured; trailing into silence as he had forgotten what he was going to say next.
Charles reached up with his big right hand and grasped the front of her bodice and tore at it savagely to free her heaving bosom. But they did not reckon on the sturdy fibers of her dress resisting his manly grasp, and instead of freeing her heaving breasts Charles instead jerked her back and forth violently, like a lovely rag doll in the fists of a petulant child. “Stop...STOP! I’ll do it already! ...beloved...” snapped Penelope, lovingly.
She fiddled with the laces and snaps and buttons and hooks of her dress, and within mere minutes she was naked. Soft pink and freckled flesh, she pressed her flesh against Charles’ own, her wet lips dancing across his chest hairs. She longed to kiss each and every one, though this task would take her a lifetime as he was quite the burly man. He moaned softly in pleasure, as he gently cupped her broad buttocks; one in each hand. He handled them gently but firmly, as the baker handles his loaves. Tender and patient, but at the same time knowing that a good, firm kneading was the way to do it.
“Charles, dearest Charles! I can take it no longer! Take me! I beseech you my darling, take me right here! Right now! Take me! Make me yours! Oh my love, I need to feel you, every bit of you! I need you! I want you! You tempt me so, I adore you I ADORE you! I love you, oh how I love you! Oh darling Charles, take me, make me a woman! Complete me, ravish me, love me! I can wait no longer! I need you now, no more waiting, take me now! I love you so, I need you so, take me!” she begged him, words tumbling over one another like snowflakes above a roaring fireplace.
“Yes!” he replied.
He lifted her then, his damp and cold towel falling unwanted to the floor about his ankles. stumbling a little over his towel, Charles laid her gently upon the bed and then pressed himself upon her, their lips and tongues dancing together like a pair of locomotives dancing in and out of their tunnels.
He pressed himself down onto her, into her and met her eyes. “I have longed for this moment for longer than I think you could ever know, dearest Penelope.” he whispered, again caressing her cheek softly with the blade of his hand. A broad smile crossed her lips as she hooked her ankles around his waist.
Ribbons of ecstasy tickling their souls, the purest pleasure of their congress vibrating through their physical forms as their hearts and minds soared on waves of joy. And then they were off, suddenly merged into one perfect being. A being made of two souls, molded into one purest form by a lifetime of longing and stolen glances, by years of unrequited love. In this moment, both Penelope and Charles were finally complete, were finally together. Those broad, gaping holes in their hearts were finally filled with the warm, pulsing light of love. In that moment, the couple knew purest happiness.
And then that moment passed, and in the next moment Charles’ body was wracked with spasms of more personal pleasure a tenfold more intense than the shared pleasure that they had both experienced a moment ago. Charles shook with the intensity of this feeling, his jaw clicking open and shut with its force. Small bubbles of spit formed and popped at his mouth, raining down onto Penelope’s sweaty breasts in tiny droplets of saliva.
And then it was done, Charles collapsing heavily onto Penelope’s suddenly rigid form. “Oh my darling, my darling! Sweetest Penelope, I never knew such bliss.” He wept now, his body limp and spent. “Such rapture! In all of my lonely years in this land, I have not felt such passion but in the deepest throes of secret, sweaty dreams. My love, my love! Tell me my love, tell me that you share this blessed euphoria!”
After a moment, Penelope replied. “...yeah, great."
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