Excerpt

Jenny was sorely tempted to walk into the upstairs room without any warning. It was only the recollection of her father’s last strapping that made her knock. “Your wine, sir.”

The older man – Hugh Templeton, she recalled from her last trip to the theatre – opened the door. His points were unlaced and his feet were bare. His broad smile was calculated to disarm her, but it had the opposite effect, deepening her distrust of this handsome, facile man.

Peering past him, she saw that he had removed all the cushions from the benches and stools, and scattered them on top of the floor rushes. The younger man lay upon the cushions, in an even more advanced state of undress. He appeared to be wearing nothing more than a shirt which barely covered his privates. Jenny tried not to stare.

“Do you need anything else?” She deliberately dropped the honorific.

“No, we’ll be fine. My friend just needs to rest. Don’t disturb us.”

Rest? Not precious likely, Jenny thought. She’d heard rumours about the dashing and charismatic actor. Now she was desperately curious to learn the truth about that gossip.

She made her way down the stairs, heavy footed, then tiptoed silently back up. The room had a lock, but the key had disappeared long ago. Crouching down on her haunches, she applied one eye to the keyhole.

Templeton was on his knees next to the supine figure of the younger man – Ben, that’s what they had called him. It took a moment for Jenny to realise that Templeton was working away at Ben’s erect cock, which reared straight up towards the ceiling from a curly red-gold tangle at Ben’s groin. Fascinated, she watched Hugh stroke the rigid flesh from the cherry-like tip to the firm root, which he could barely encompass with his hand. She had seen male organs before, of course, but only in furtive glimpses. She’d never had this kind of luxury to observe all the remarkable details. The way that the veins wound around the swollen rod like vines around a great tree trunk; the stark contrast between the ruddy bulb and the pale shaft; the glistening moisture that collected in the delicate slit at the apex.

Saliva pooled in Jenny’s mouth as she followed the motions of Templeton’s fingers, smoothing the liquid over the spongy cap. She felt a desperate desire to taste the precious fluid milked from the beautiful, unconscious man on the floor. As if a party to her secret thoughts, Templeton bent, covered the rampant organ with his mouth, and started to suck.

A bright flash of heat bloomed between Jenny’s thighs. She wanted that graceful, straining dick for herself. She was a virgin still, at least officially, but she was a curious, observant and somewhat rebellious young woman. She understood the rudiments of desire. She had experimented on her own body and knew how to coax paroxysms of pleasure from the juicy folds between her thighs. Her fingers crept under her skirts as she watched Templeton loose his own dick and stroke it in time with his suckling.

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