1. The Oriental Isle: chapter eight


    Date: 11/8/2019, Categories: Lesbian, Author: Pixie_Hoffmann, Source: LushStories

    'So,' she said, her hands between my thighs, feeling my want of a penis. 'Highness, I had long wanted to meet you, and Lady Emma offered me this chance. By dressing as a man, it provided a cover for all of us, since three women travelling alone might have attracted attention.' 'You are a pretty little thing, what is your real name?' 'Rachael, ‘I lied fluently. 'Remember, I lived much of my early life in France, and I am not averse to a pretty young thing, especially not on with a tongue like yours. Does the insatiable Lady de Winter know?' 'No, Ma'am, only Lady Emma.' 'We shall keep it that way. But tonight, I think I shall have a companion. Now take those clothes off and let me see what you look like.' I slipped out of my male clothes and unpinned my hair. 'I see how you passed so easily as a man, your figure is undeveloped yet - and you look delicious. Come here.' Our lips met. I folded myself into her arms. The linen shift she wore pressed against my skin. She pushed me back on the bed, her hands feeling my tiny breasts. I felt my nipple harden. Then her hand was between my thighs. She knew what she was doing. However long it had been since she had made love to a woman, she had forgotten nothing. My hands went up her shift, finding her sex. As my finger curled inside, she moaned. My palm brushed against her bud. She moaned some more. And as she cupped my sex and rubbed my bud, I penetrated her and made her gasp. Turning on our side, we both played with each other, ...
    allowing the pleasure to engulf us and suspend time. We kissed. Ah, in that kiss there was a desire. Here, I thought later, was a woman who simply wanted to be loved. Responding to what I felt, I pushed her onto her back, and stripping her of her shift, rubbed my tiny nipples against her bigger ones, pressing myself onto the softness of her breasts, as my fingers took her, harder and deeper. 'Oh yes, yes, Rachael, take me, take me, I am yours. Ohhh...' She let forth a deep, shuddering sigh, as she surrendered. Her climax was sudden and intense, and then, again, and again. I thought she would not stop. She shook, she wept copiously. I held her. I held her for so long. Out, on night's vast old ocean we drifted together, like ship-wrecked sailors waiting for the dawn, but craving the silence and the dark a while longer. We were all in all to each other, answering some deep visceral, unspoken, perhaps unspeakable, need. The Scots Queen seizing one last chance for happiness, however transient, and the young Jewish woman assuaging her guilt in giving her that chance. Words were superfluous. We kissed, we loved, we comforted each other across that short night's passage to morning. There were tears, there was laughter, smiles and frowns, and we cuddled until the sun's rays began to struggle through the clouds. With the breaking of the dawn, there came our parting, with words of love and affectionate kisses. It was, in so many ways, the strangest night I ever spent. My actions had already ...
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