An Excess Of Ecstasy

An Excess of Ecstasy

By Alex Barton

Sir Giles Picton, Earl of Ranelagh and, despite being only in his late twenties, a qualified surgeon and Aide-de-camp to the Surgeon-General of the Army of the Duke of Wellington, aware he still had fifteen miles to ride to reach Dorchester which in turn was twenty miles north-west of his family estate, looked at the rapidly darkening sky and decided not to risk pushing on, eager as he was to reach his ancestral home.

Despite the thickness of his Army greatcoat and the wool muffler his sister Elspeth had sent to him, knowing he would chose to ride home rather than travel by coach, the December wind was bitingly cold and Giles longed for the warmth of a cozy bed and a good dinner with a bottle of Burgundy and several snifters of brandy to wash it down. Thus refreshed, and after a good night's sleep, he would make good progress in the morning and arrive at Ranelagh by mid-afternoon.

His anticipation of being able to put behind him what he had witnessed at the great battle which had finally put an end to Napoleon Bonaparte's ambition to become Emperor of all Europe caused Giles to be preoccupied and he suddenly realized his lack of attention meant he was in considerable danger.

The mail coach was approaching fast toward him along the narrow track. The driver, accompanied by a guard armed with a wide-bore shotgun, obviously believed a man on horseback with his face covered constituted a threat and whipped his horses into a sudden gallop. The guard, anticipating robbery, raised the gun to his shoulder, his finger on the trigger, and Giles had only seconds to react by pulling the muffler down to expose his features and draw his horse to the side of the road.

As the coach thundered past the guard nodded, hitching the wide-bore shotgun cradled in his arm so it was pointing away from horse and rider for which Giles was thankful; if the coach had lurched suddenly the gun could still have gone off, blasting him into the next world where so many of the Iron Duke's troops he had lately operated on waited to welcome him to their number.

*

Both horse and rider were flagging by the time Giles reached a respectable-looking coaching inn where he decided to spend the night. He made his way into the parlor where the landlord made him welcome, seeing from the crest on Giles's saddlebags that his guest was noble-born, and instructed his son to attend to Giles's horse while Maggie, the landlord's wife, a handsome woman Giles estimated to be in her mid-thirties, led the way up to the best room in the house.

Following behind up the staircase, Giles noted with a connoisseur's eye the way his landlady's plump backside jiggled and bounced with her every step and he was even more delighted when she opened the door to his room, turning toward him so that Giles could see her large heavy breasts, their slopes milky-white, were close to bursting free from the unlaced bodice she was wearing.

His eyes meeting Maggie's so she would know how attractive he found her, Giles handed her a shilling and requested that a warming pan be brought because he did not wish to catch a chill from an unaired bed, then asked if she could provide the meal he had set his heart on as he journeyed: slices of roast beef on fresh bread, an apple for dessert and, if it was available, a bottle of claret. Giles was delighted when Maggie smiled and confirmed her husband not only had a fine Burgundy in the cellar but also a quantity of French brandy she expected he would enjoy, winking at him which meant it was contraband and had been smuggled into the nearest coastline to avoid payment of Customs & Excise duty.

Scrupulous about his personal hygiene, aware that men might die if his hands were dirty and their wounds became infected, Giles arranged with Maggie for her son to bring him hot water so he could sponge himself down. In preparation for which he stripped off and laid his clothes on the bed, delighting in the warmth of the fire on his naked body as he waited for the water's arrival. While he did so, he rummaged in his saddle bag for his purple silk robe and was tying it closed when the landlord's son knocked and was about to enter, obviously struggling with the weight of the bucket. The boy's mother, following close behind and carrying Giles' meal on a tray, shooed her son out, her eyes irresistibly drawn to the size and thickness of Giles' long, heavy prick which he made no attempt to conceal as it hung down between his legs.

But then Giles noticed that Maggie winced with pain as she placed the tray of food on a small table and then carried the bucket of hot water over by the fire. He brought the folds of his robe together so he could enquire why.

"It is the back of my wrist sir, at the base of my hand," the woman said. "Whenever I carry something heavy it hurts most grievously."

"I am a surgeon," Giles said. "Let me see."

Maggie walked across to him and bent forward as he took her hand and brought it to the candle in order to examine her closely. The movement made Maggie's breasts even more likely to fall free of her bodice but Giles' professional interest was piqued and he hardly noticed.

"It is a ganglion, a bundle of nerves that has become swollen from overuse," he said. "A sac of fluid forms round the constriction which is what causes the pain. It must be drained."

"That's what my mother said, my Lord," Maggie offered. "Although she did not know the correct medical term. She says I must hit it hard with the family Bible and then it will pop but I am greatly afraid of the pain."

"As well you should be," Giles said, shaking his head. "That is an old wives' tale and it will absolutely not work. Come back when I have eaten and bring a bottle of brandy and a jug of the hottest water you can find. I will deal with it."

"Thank you, sir," Maggie said and curtseyed, which Giles this time definitely

did

notice, taking pleasure from her deep cleavage on display under her bodice. He felt his mouth water for a taste of the woman's pert pink nipples.

Left alone for the moment, Giles poured himself a glass of wine and sniffed it. The aroma was delightful, the first sip like liquid heaven. He had not realized how hungry he was until he reached for his dinner and consumed it with almost indecent haste. Then he sat back, letting his robe fall open as he reached once more into his saddle bag for a small book, the title of which was 'Harris's List', a directory of the ladies of pleasure in London and of married women whose appetites were not sufficiently satisfied by their husbands and lovers so they sought additional sexual opportunities, often without requiring payment.

Giles reached down and opened his robe so he could masturbate as he read the entry for Betsy Miles who resided in Old Street, Clerkenwell. He resolved to look her up when he returned to town, the description of her perfectly fitting his sexual preferences:

'Known in this quarter for her immense sized breasts, which she alternately makes use of with the rest of her parts, she is what you may call backwards and forward, posteriors not excepted, nay indeed she has most pleasure in the latter. Entrance at the front door reasonably priced but nothing less than two pounds for the back way'

, a price which Giles thought extremely reasonable.

Spurred on by his erotic imaginings, Giles was moments away from spurting his sperm when there was a soft knock on the door. He sighed, replaced his robe over his throbbing cock, and called out, "Come in!"

It was Maggie, carrying the bottle of brandy and jug of hot water as instructed, steam rising to show it was freshly prepared.

"Sit down, Mistress, with the back of your hand as near to the light as possible," Giles said. He reached into his saddle bag for the roll of surgical instruments he always carried and saw Maggie's eyes widen with fear when he extracted a knife with an extremely thin, sharp blade. He plunged it into the hot water, holding it there while he produced a clean bandage, also part of his medical kit for use in an emergency.

"This will hurt, I'm afraid," Giles said. "But only a little and only for a few moments. After that you must keep the wound clean and dry for as long as you can. If your husband objects, tell him I have instructed that doing anything that involves your hand getting dirty will mean not only the loss of the limb but also your life through blood poisoning."

"Oh sir, you scare me so," Maggie said, her voice trembling but then she squealed with surprise when Giles reached down and kissed her on the lips, enjoying their softness and distracting her for long enough to enable him to quickly straighten and use the fleam to pierce the skin on the back of her hand precisely above the knot of nerves.

Giles made the tiniest of incisions to drain the sac and then withdrew his blade, reaching for the brandy and pouring a hefty tot over the wound now seeping blood. Then he covered the wound with the bandage and smiled at Maggie whose face had turned white despite the speed and expertise he had displayed.

"Thank you, my Lord," she said and reached up on tiptoe so she could kiss Giles's cheek. "You are a good man to care for me so."

Giles smiled. "Do not forget my bedpan, Mistress," he said with a mock scowl on his face. "I hate sleeping in a cold bed."

"Ahh," Maggie said, a cheeky grin on her face. "You just need a warm woman to join you, not a bedpan, my Lord," and she pointedly looked down at where Giles's cock, softened only a little from his concentration on lancing the ganglion, now rose up full and proud, his pendant balls, as big as lemons, tingling with the intensity of his fierce desire.

"Might I not be allowed to express my gratitude, my Lord?" she asked, reaching up with her unbandaged hand to her bodice and pulling it down to expose her enormous, heavy breasts which Giles thought 'Miss Betsy Miles of Clerkenwell' would be hard pressed to outdo.

"I would enjoy that greatly," Giles said, and he slid his hands round her waist so he could pull the huge globes against his chest, his lips meeting hers, their tongues dueling together in ardent attraction.

Breaking the kiss, her breasts heaving with desire, Maggie purred, "How do you wish to have me, my Lord? In my mouth as my husband does or in my quim as my son prefers?"

"Ah," said Giles, laughing softly as he reached a hand up and fondled the fullness of Maggie's left breast, bending his head to kiss the stiff tip as he said, "I

do

love a wanton woman. You have debauched your son then, Maggie?"

"Many times but always in secret, my Lord, because my husband would not be best pleased. But then a woman has needs that must be satisfied and sometimes one man alone cannot extinguish the raging fires of lust."

"Then I would have you slip out quietly and fetch your son," Giles said as he lifted first one and then the other of Maggie's soft, warm breasts to his mouth, sucking her nipples hard and closing his teeth around first one stiff bud and then the other, making her moan with delight.

"Surely you don't mean -?" Maggie struggled to say, her breath catching in her chest from the pleasure Giles knew she felt deep in her cunt.

"I desire to watch your young man make love to his mother," Giles said, pausing from licking his tongue over and about her nipples. "I wish to watch and then join in. Have you ever taken two cocks, Mistress, one in your wet, slippery cunt and another in your tight bumhole?"

"Goodness, no, my Lord," said Maggie, sounding shocked but Giles could tell from the way she pushed her breast against his suckling mouth she was extremely aroused by his request. "But they do say there is a first time for everything," she purred with a mischievous smile. "If my husband asks I shall tell him you require more hot water and Luke must help me bring it up."

"Excellent. My dear, your nipples taste like ripe cherries but I am desperate to empty my balls in your bum so hurry now and fetch your son."

Giles turned her round and gave her curvy bottom a hefty slap which made Maggie giggle. As she was about to open the door, she hesitated.

"Yes, Mistress, what is it?"

"You won't try to fuck my son, my Lord?" she said, her voice showing her concern. "He is only 19 and I love him so."

Giles walked across and cupped her chin in his hand, lifting her face to his. "Be assured, Mistress," Giles said, looking into her eyes. "I take no pleasure from buggering boys. My preference is solely for women; beautiful, buxom women like yourself with glorious asses that I can fuck my prick into until I empty my balls into their bowels. In fact, your ass is my ideal in every respect."

Maggie squirmed with excitement and arousal. "Luke and I will return very soon, my Lord," she said, her eyes widening when Giles pressed a gold sovereign into her palm.

"I look forward to it," Giles said.

*

The ride, and the excellence of the meal he consumed, made Giles sleepy and he dozed by the fire, waking when the door of his room opened quietly and Maggie, leading her son Luke by the hand, slipped inside.

"Did we wake you, my Lord?" Maggie asked, her voice showing concern Giles might have changed his mind.

"Only from a short doze," he said, smiling. "I have ridden a long way today."

"You are not too tired to do as you planned?" she asked, her voice betraying her expectant anticipation.

"Never too tired for taking my pleasure, Mistress," Giles said with a laugh and the lad standing by his mother's side laughed.

"What would you have me do, Mother?" Luke said, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it up over his head. Giles noted the young man's heavy work around the inn had benefitted him with a strong chest and muscular arms and he had no doubt the boy could take his pleasure of his mother by raising and lowering her body without effort on his prick, a belief confirmed when the boy unbuttoned his breeches and pushed them down his strong legs, his cock rearing up with the fierceness of his desire, drops of oily liquid dripping from exposed tip.

"Lie back on the gentleman's bed, my darling," Maggie said, curling her fingers round the shaft of her son's cock which more than filled her hand, his balls hanging low beneath the quivering pole. Maggie's eyes met Giles' as she masturbated her son, taking care not to do it too firmly to avoid bringing him off before his prick was buried in her quim. Luke did as instructed, his eyes meeting Giles in the obvious belief the older man wanted only to watch while he made love to his mother, preferring to be, as the French call it, a

voyeur

. Charles smiled to himself; the boy would realize his error soon enough.

The well-made boy lay back with his head on the pillow and spread his legs, displaying his rampant cock, full balls and the tiny entrance to his ass to his mother to arouse her lust as she hurriedly stripped herself naked. Giles' gaze passed from one to the other, aware they were mother and son and about to fuck for his entertainment. His cock was achingly stiff, his balls tingling in the way that presaged an orgasm and he quickly thought back to his encounter with the mail coach as a mental diversion to allow the spasms to pass. But then he took in Maggie's sumptuous beauty as it was revealed and he feared once again his cock would erupt without him needing to touch it.

She was a beauty. Shapely legs ended in well-turned ankles and small, dainty feet. The lips of her sex resembled the furrow of a succulent peach, the tiny organ of her clit standing proud at the apex with the intensity of her sexual excitement. Her waist had none of the fleshiness caused by soft living but was firm and flat. Her breasts, huge for the petite size of her body, hung like giant peaches on her chest, full and firm, tipped by pink nipples Giles knew from recent experience tasted delicious. Her neck was slender, her lips naturally red, her long black hair lustrous as it fell over her shoulders. She was ideal in her voluptuousness and Giles ached to fuck her until she screamed out in ecstasy.

Moving to the bed, Maggie lifted herself so she straddled her son's groin. She reached down between her legs for his rampant pole and took hold of it again, this time just the tip because, so Giles guessed, the boy was perilously close to climaxing. She notched the glans against the opening of her quim from which creamy liquid was oozing, dripping onto her son's pole in preparation for easing its way into her body. And then she lowered herself, deliciously slowly, inch after inch of the boy's rampant pole enveloped by the slippery walls of her overflowing cunt until she was fully seated, her breasts rising and falling, her mouth open, her eyes closing in blissful satisfaction.

The boy reached his hands to her waist and closed them so he could lift his mother up and forwards, bringing the tips of her breasts to his greedy, suckling mouth. He stuffed his face, breastflesh spreading across his nose, cheeks and chin as he suckled her nipples, moving from one to the other as he raised and lowered his mother's body, fucking her up and down on his upright prick.

"Oh god Luke, my baby, my own dear son, it feels so wonderful when you fuck me," Maggie moaned, heightening both the arousal of the boy with his cock stuffing her cunt to capacity and the man standing at the end of the bed slowly stroking his cock at the magnificently wanton sight. But then Giles decided he, as much as Luke, had earned the right to bury himself in Maggie's sumptuous body and, once again, he reached in his saddle bag but this time for the fragrant oil he always carried in case an opportunity for sodomy presented itself.

Removing the cork stopper, Giles poured a quantity of the oil onto his fingers. Then he moved to the side of the bed, his eyes meeting Maggie's as he reached down and slid his well-lubricated fingers along the furrow of her buttocks, pressing the tips into the tiny hole of her anus, made even tighter and smaller by the size of the prick buried in the adjacent passage. The sensation of being worked open made Maggie's rectal walls tighten round Giles' questing fingers and she moaned softly, lost in the first of what Giles was sure would be many and frequent orgasmic spasms.

Still fucking his mother but obviously enjoying the stroking of the shaft of his cock by Giles' oily fingertips, Luke began to speed up his upward thrusts, the sound of his balls slapping against his mother's plump buttocks and the scent of her plundered cunt filling the room. Giles found it highly arousing and he paused only long enough to spread the sensuous oil over the head and shaft of his cock before climbing on the bed and positioning himself so his glans was only an inch or so from the glistening opening of Maggie's rosehole. All Giles had to do was ease his hips forward and the bulging head of his prick began to force open the tight muscle of her sphincter until it gave way and his glans slid into her asshole.

A devotee of anal sex, Giles had often experienced the extraordinary sensation of sinking his prick into the velvet heat of a woman's rectum made tighter than nature intended by the presence of a prick fucking the adjoining passage. All that separated his thick sex from Luke's was a thin membrane and the sensation was like no other in its intensity and ability to heighten Giles' senses to the peak of sexual ecstasy.

"First you and then me," he hissed at Luke and the boy immediately responded, withdrawing his rampant sex so the head of Giles' prick could enter his mother's bowels then, the moment Giles flexed his hips to withdraw, he plunged his prick full length into his mother's receptive quim, flooded with her creamy emission and the sperm produced by his balls in anticipation of a shattering climax. Maggie, her senses overwhelmed by the double fucking she was receiving, could do no more than quiver and shake in blissful response to the two men taking their pleasure in her cunt and asshole, her breasts fondled by Giles from behind and presented to her son's suckling mouth where he closed his teeth on the erect buds and bit into them, not hard enough to break the skin but making her cry out with the ecstasy surging through her body.