the richly intense bedspread. Stefano
scurried as a smitten pet, his private brushing against the thick
covering. When his princess’s back reached the mountains of
pillows, he took advantage to dive onto her midsection. His mouth
trailed against her entire body, pleasuring as only an experienced
lover could do. But prior to this day, his count was null. Stefano
was only doing the things that his cravings dictated. He had
eagerly wanted to feel her bosoms against his tongue, so when he
tipped the pink flowers, he felt his flesh increase. This reaction
caused him to suckle a little more, tug a touch harder, and squeeze
to gain further traction.
“ Stefano,” Anastasia exclaimed.
“Inamorato . . . inamorato.”
Her declarations drove him wild. He gripped both
breasts, pushing them inward, milking their goodness. He moaned in
his efforts, she continued to call out his name. And only when he
received a significant fill from one toy did he move his fingers
lower. Stefano’s hands shook. His limbs felt mushy, his private
part firm, and his entire resolve thrilling. He was on the verge of
officially entering manhood, yet that achievement was minor in
comparison to the thought of solidifying his connection with his
creamy princess.
So when he used his fingers to tease at her insides,
Stefano became an experienced lover. His actions reflected
maturity. He instantly knew that in extending and contracting, in
expanding and decreasing his fingers, he would be able to pleasure
Anastasia. Although his flesh extended straight out and upward from
the bedding, he need not make himself a priority. In fact, he
rather enjoyed her reaction. While still engaged with her flesh, he
used his free hand to travel up her thighs, resting on her breasts.
No sooner was contact made with his palms, he wrapped barely
visible lips around her skin and nibbled.
Anastasia squealed. Her hips jolted back and forward
against his wrists. Her hands traveled downward to encourage his
entrance, demanding a deeper force. When his fingers could no
longer sustain the job, she forced him away.
In full view of his private salute, she wrapped her
fingers around his growth, pushing him toward a heap of
pillows.
“ Stefano,” she blushed,
“perfetto.”
Studying the glimmer of her blue pupils, he nodded.
Anastasia speedily embraced his slender member. He could tell that
her urges were increasing when her grip tightened and massaged.
“ Ahhhh!” he cried out. His
declaration hammered at his chords. “Ahhhh!”
He wasn’t even able to cry out again before he
erupted. Anastasia pulled away, shocked. Her cheeks displayed how
very inexperienced she felt.
Lowering her head, though peering into his face, she
added, “Was it satisfying?”
He could not speak, but merely declared his
love.
“ Il mio amore!”
Stefano then repositioned himself on top of
Anastasia, plunging his supreme erection deep inside fresh,
untouched walls. They clung to one another’s naked flesh.
Bliss.
Excitement.
Fulfillment.
The cradling of Stefano’s growth against Anastasia’s
walls became an affirmation, a promise of forever. Each movement
inside her expanding tightness, the penetration developed from
simple need to must have; must occupy. Stefano’s hips thrust
wildly, causing the bed to shift. Their noisemaking filled the
room, bouncing about the rich furnishings, seeping beneath the
doorways.
The servants gathered outside the partition, mouths
hanging open. There was little need to press against the white
wooden door for confirmation. Lovemaking, or rather the sound of
lovemaking, was an uncommon appearance from Anastasia’s room. But
they knew. No one dared disturb the mistress and her betrothed,
even though madre e il padre Soranzo would explode if they were
home. And so, Stefano and Anastasia shamelessly drew down scandal
into the typically quiet home.
Stefano left some four hours later. The couple was
able to rejuvenate and reinvent themselves. They did the