It has always been the custom for special guests to prepare their own breakfast when they stay at the chateau, rising before the servants to steal into the kitchens and rustle around for provender. I could imagine you squirrelling away apricots and croissants and coffee before slipping up to wake me and share your treasures with me.
Today you had not returned. It was nine a.m., late by my requirements. I got up and wondered if everything was alright. I went downstairs, listening, wondering if you had slipped into the shower. I heard no water running. There was no sound of sighs as you slid soap over your body. The air was free of the soft puff of talc that dried and toned your flesh. I slipped down the stairwell and across the main hall into the kitchens. It was there that I found you.
You lay practically on the table, your legs spread wide, one finger busy at your moist entrance, probing your fingers in and out of your wide-open hatch, the other hand busy at your breasts. You was wearing a robe, but it had fallen complete away from you, and only your arms were covered by the terry cloth material.
"Oh, MiLord," you moaned, your eyes closed. "MiLord, My Lord!"
I stood there, increasingly excited as I watched you play with yourself. Getting up in the morning and finding your house guest lying across the kitchen table, naked, her legs spread, and playing with herself, fingers moving in and out of her sex and moaning would delight the owner of any fantasy realm. I know it did me. I could feel myself harden under my robe, the cold air circulating around my heated organ.
"Good Morning, my dear......," I whispered.
Your eyes flickered open and you looked at me, a look of delighted surprise spread across your face. You grabbed the sides of your robe, coyly trying to cover yourself as you straightened. You sat up and then, for the first time, seemed to notice that my hardness.
"You've arisen, Sire," you giggled.
I took your hand and pressed it against my body. Your hand was warm and soft. Your eyes were large and bright as you stared at the organ contained in your hand. To my surprise, you wrapped your fingers around the base of it and squeezed, then stroked upward.
"Can I stroke it for you?" you asked belatedly, your voice surprised and raspy, breathless, and sounding hopeful.
" Go ahead. You can service me with a smile and finish what you have started."
"Will my host come for his special guest this once?"
"Perhaps," I responded as you moved your hand up and down my rigidity slowly, staring with an intense look on your face. Then, you knelt down in front of me. You reached up with the other hand and gently touched me, lifting the robe aside with the other. I pulled the robe away from my body, letting it fall to the floor. You began stroking faster now, licking your lips, staring as you fondled that which you desired. Your touch was gentle, warm, wonderful.
"Does that hurt? Is that too fast, Sire?" you asked.
"It feels wonderful,m'dear."
You continued stroking, despatching thrills like errant messengers over the territory of my body with every touch of your hands. Then you stopped and moved your mouth towards me. You tongued close to my flesh, and opened your mouth wide. You guided me most effectively, running your tongue around and around to indicate the correct pathway to pleasure. I moaned at the sensation, looking down and watching this specially prized woman.
To my further surprise and delight, you released me only to run your tongue slowly up the shaft, all the way to the proud head, where you swirled your tongue repeatedly. Then, suddenly, you opened your mouth wide. I could feel the warmth and the wetness of your tongue and cheeks as you sucked me further and further to the very back of your mouth. I could feel the back of your throat, and I felt you swallow. Your lips were against my pubic bone and your chin was touching my thigh, sending shivers through me.
You built up a suction while keeping your tongue moving until you began pumping up and down with your mouth. You wrapped your fingers around the base and moved the skin up and down in unison with the movements of your mouth. I began to feel my leg muscles jerk, and I knew that I was going to come.
"Mmmmmmm," I moaned, lost in your oral dexterity and the languor of your movements. You didn't seem to hear me, and as I thrust my hips forward, I shot into your waiting mouth. You swallowed some of it, gagging, while some of it just ran down your cheeks. Slowly, you pulled me from your mouth. Still hard and now wet from your saliva and my sperm, my prowess glistened with moisture and energy. You leaned back against the table and let your robe fall open. You spread your legs, and with both hands, parted the lips of your sex.
"Breakfast, MiLord," you said as I knelt to feed. And indeed, it was as always.
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