The Prince and the Nun

The Prince and the Nun

by Jacqueline George

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War time in Central Europe, and a nun and a prince must work together...See more details below


War time in Central Europe, and a nun and a prince must work together...

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Jacqueline George
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Xinxii Publishing
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"The village doesn't realize how lucky they are to have you here, Mefist."

"They don't realize how lucky they are to have you here, but I do. God, your breasts are beautiful. Do they drink champagne?"

"I don't know. Try and offer them some."

Mefist pressed the rim of his glass to the base of her left nipple and tipped it gently until the champagne splashed her. It tickled and made Therese laugh. "Perhaps it's not thirsty."

"I'll try the other one."

Therese watched as the pale golden liquid rose to lap her nipple. It looked and felt delightfully naughty, and the little button tightened and stood out in anticipation.

"No, not thirsty," said Mefist. "Never mind, there'll be more for us. Oh look, they're wet. May I lick them dry?"

"Certainly not! No touching, remember? Still, since you've been kind to them..." She carefully wiped her nipple dry with her finger and gave it to him to lick. "Nice?"

"Magic-but what about your 'equipment'? Does it drink champagne?"

"Certainly not!" She leant forward so her equipment was tucked further underneath her. "I felt a complete idiot the other night. I don't know what came over me, letting you look at me like that when everyone else was there."

"It was very, very pretty," he said wistfully. "Can I look now, when there's no one else here?"

"No!" she said sharply, and then relented a little. "Do you really think it's pretty?"

"Of course. It's very pretty. Gorgeous, in fact, and tasty. I can vouch for that. Don't you think it's pretty?"

"Of course not! It's just me; it's just my thing. How could I think it's pretty?"

"Why not? You know your face is pretty, and your breasts, andyour figure. Your legs are elegant and your dupka is very desirable. Why shouldn't your little flower be pretty?"

"I don't know. I suppose I've never really looked at it, and I've never seen anyone else's. Except the girls', of course, and I suppose they might be quite pretty. I was a bit surprised that they're all different, but I suppose that's natural when you think about it. Come to think of it, Agata showed me hers just after the General had her for the first time, and it was pretty in its own way. Prettier than mine, anyway."

"Can't say I've studied Agata's with the same devotion as yours, but I seem to remember that yours is much nicer."

"Mefist, you're crazy," she said, but something inside her appreciated his compliment. "I'm sure you've forgotten what it looks like anyway."

"You could refresh my memory. Please? I promise not to touch."

She thought about it. She liked Mefist; in fact she was growing more and more fond of him every day. Something inside her wanted to show him because it felt nice to be admired, especially by Mefist, and besides, what harm could it do?

"You have to promise me you won't touch. I think I might go crazy if you did, and then anything could happen."

"What a delightful thought! Anyway, I'll promise. Look but don't touch."

Therese shuffled forwards a little and leant back, supported by his encircling arm. "Show me," he whispered. They looked down between her closed thighs. The vee of her dark hair pointed down to her closed, fleshy lips. The tight furrow between them disappeared out of sight. "Show me," he whispered again.

She tried to open her legs, but the desk stopped her. Slowly she lifted her foot and rested it on the desktop. Mefist dipped his hand under her other thigh, lifting it up to rest across his chest. She was lying back, cradled by his arms.

At her centre they could see her pink inner lips twisted tightly together and reaching provocatively out beyond the tight cushions on either side. "It's beautiful! Show me more." Obediently she pressed two fingertips to the top of her furrow and pulled up. The movement opened her sex, and the petals of her inner lips fell apart. "Oh, so sweet!" he whispered. "How is your button?"

"My button?"

"Yes, your button. Your clitoris. How is it?"

"I don't understand."

"It's there, under that cover. Touch it. It should feel good."

She studied herself and moved her fingertip to the long cover that ran down from near the top of her furrow to the springing of her inner lips. She pressed it gently and felt a hard rib underneath. It felt good. "That's it. Is that good? Now rub it up and down a little."

"Ooh!" she moaned gently. "That is good."

"Try and pull the hood back, and your little button will pop out. Try it!"

Uncertainly she reached a little lower, pressed and pulled back. A pink pearl was uncovered at the top of her inner lips. "That's it," he whispered. "Touch it."

She moved her thumb to hold the cover back and brushed the pearl with her fingertip. "It tickles," she said.

"That's right," he said. "To start with it tickles, and then it wants more and more. Rub it up and down again."

She returned two fingertips to the cover and rubbed up and down. "Oh Mefist! That's exciting!" She continued to rub gently up and down. Her sex began to wake up and take interest in what was happening. She settled into a rhythm, and the two of them watched expectantly.

"Don't stop," he said, kissing her brow lightly. Her fingers built up excitement inside her. Mefist's head rested against hers as they watched together, and the feel and the scent of him filled her mind. Her red varnished fingernails moved firmly and inevitably in the groove of her sex. She knew she would carry on to the end.

She let her head fall back onto his arm but she did not stop. She rubbed faster now. Faster and harder. The pressure was building, building inside her, and she wanted to open her legs wider. She wanted to open herself completely to him, and she pressed outwards between the confines of his chest and the office desk. She was panting from her efforts and making little noises of frustration as she struggled to reach her goal.

He whispered to her, "You're so beautiful, darling. So sexy. Don't stop. Do it for me. You're wonderful, my love. Do it now. I love you, Therese. You're fantastic. Don't stop. Yes, you're coming, my love, you're coming. Don't stop. You're coming...."

"Aah!" she groaned and lifted her head to look at herself. Her hand flashed up and down between her open thighs. "Ooooh!" and she sought his lips. She crushed her mouth against his as her thighs slammed shut and her trapped fingers pressed deep into the folds of her sex. Her hips butted up and down as the spasms of her orgasm shook her. Mefist held her safely in his arms while she thrashed through her climax.

She came slowly back to consciousness. He was cradling her on his lap, one arm behind her and the other under her knees. She had slipped down, and her forehead nestled against his neck. "Oh Mefist. What did you do...?"

"Nothing, my love. You did it all, and you were wonderful."

"I went crazy."

"That's right. You lost yourself completely, and so quickly that I can hardly believe it. Did you enjoy yourself?"

"I want to do it to you!" she declared and tried to sit up.

"Oh no. No touching. Stop wriggling or I won't let you go. Stop it! That's better." He lifted her up and set her bottom on the desk. He pulled her feet towards him and set them on the chair, on either side of his hips. He was sitting between her stockinged knees, and he rested his arms on her thighs. He looked up at her. "Good?" he asked.

"Wonderful, but I want to do it to you now."

He smiled and reached up to brush hair from her cheek. "No. Not now--you're still crazy. It was enough for me to watch it happen to you. Do you still think your little flower isn't beautiful?"

"Well, it certainly knows how to do beautiful things. If you like it, I suppose that's enough." She looked down at him between her knees, smiling and happy. She reached out to stroke the side of his face and his neck.

"And how's it feeling, your little flower? Is it sore? Is it cheerful?"

She laughed at the idea. "It's very cheerful. Look!" No longer shy, she spread her thighs wide and rocked her hips back to bring her sex up into view. He had his hands on the insides of her thighs, and they stared together at the puffy pink lips unashamedly gaping at her centre. As they watched, a spasm ran through her sex, and she felt it lift up inside and relax again happily. She could feel she was open to him, and she was sure that, down below where she could not see, he could look right up inside her. She reached back and lent on her hands. Her head was hanging back, her hair brushing her shoulders. "Please, Mefist...."

He was holding her knees apart and gently kissing the insides of her thighs. The pressure was building again and she was begging him to take her, to fill her and love her. "Aah!" she groaned as a wave rushed through her and she realised the begging sounded only in her head. "Please, Mefist..." she pleaded. His kisses nibbled up her thighs, coming nearer and nearer to her swollen, hungry, protruding sex. Another wave came. "Oh God, Mefist! Please!" At last he reached her; his breath was on her sex, his breath was driving her over the edge...

She was sitting over him. She had curled into a hard ball around him. She had taken her sex away from him, and with scissored legs, she held his head crushed between her knees. She had doubled over and pressed her face into his hair. Waves of ecstatic pleasure raced again and again through her sex as she squeezed and squeezed it beneath her.

She slowly realized that Mefist was stroking her back, moving his fingertips gently up and down her spine. She relaxed, collapsing softly as Mefist disentangled himself. He lifted her, bringing her feet up and laying her on the desk. She could feel papers sticking to her back. He put his hand behind her head and bent to kiss her lips. "Therese, my love, you are fantastic! I've never met anyone so talented at sex."

She felt weak and lost. Between her legs her swollen sex clenched languidly on itself. Her skin was glowing, and her arms and legs felt completely relaxed. She had no desire to lift herself from the desk.

"My God, Mefist, what did you do?"

"Not guilty, Ma'am, I might have breathed on it, but you snatched my dinner away before I could settle down to a good meal."

"It was wonderful. I've never felt anything like it. I must be crazy. I can't move."

He lifted her again and carried her to the chaise longue. Half-sitting, half-lying, sipping champagne, she slowly recovered. "I can't believe the girls do this every night."

Mefist laughed. "They don't, and just as well or they'd be worn out in a week. They have fun, but their customers are only customers, after all. The girls are not doing it to please themselves."

"Well, you certainly pleased me. Did you like it?"

Mefist laughed. "Oh yes. Definitely. I could watch that all night. More than you could possibly stand."

"But don't you want ... You know what I mean."

"Of course, but not now. Maybe sometime in the future, when you're feeling better about the whole idea."

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