I walk back into the room and set the tea tray on the table.
“You’re still wearing the corset! And nothing else, you cheeky man, what has gotten into you?”
“It makes me feel sexy,” he explains.
“Haven’t you had any fun with your misbehavior?” I tease, the corner of my mouth lifting.
“Oh yes, indeed,” he grins over his shoulder. “I can still see Mistress Douvet’s face.”
We both began to chuckle.
“I cannot believe you had the sheer audacity to show up at her ball dressed like that. It will be the talk of the entire town tomorrow. I will hear of it in the drawing club, at the grocers, in the hallways of Oxford, how Lord Byron’s son showed up at Mistress Douvet’s fete dressed as her daughter! Scandalous!”
He wiggles his butt. “I made for a dashing woman, did I not? The stockings make my legs look oh so shapely. Plus, it was not entirely for jest. It was for a noble mission was it not? The younger Miss Douvet couldn’t bear the thought of another stuffy ball, and we relieved her so she may have a night out on the town instead.”
“Mmm we can only hope she had a jolly night of debauchery too.”
“Does that mean I get to keep the corset?”
“God I hope so,” I groan. I put a cookie into my mouth and begin to unbutton my vest.
He rolls over. “Well either way, I doubt I’ll ever be invited again, and if that is the only thing I accomplish-”
I moan.
“Why are you moaning, love?”
“I cannot help but fix my gaze on your lovely soft penis between your legs and I want it very much. Did you shave it? It’s so bare and helpless…” I lick the crumbs off my fingers and crawl onto the bed.
“I did excise the hair, because I wanted to feel smooth like a lady.”
“Gods, look at it, just a little tube of flesh protruding from your body…and where is your low pouch? Mmm there is is.” I reach between his legs and wrap my fingers around his cock – just touching it, not squeezing it. I lift and drop his cock several times, obsessed with its flaccid state. I jostle his balls and continue to stroke him. “God you are just so perfect. Look at you, in that untied corset like a strumpet, so shamelessly naked-…. Rolf, were you naked under that dress the entire time?”
He smirks. “Yes. I could not find a proper pair of women’s undergarments to contain myself.”
I bite back a cry and shudder and my undergarments become wet. I dip my head and kiss before, before moving down to take him into my mouth. I suck, and he sighs and arches his back, his thighs pressed against my head.
“I love when you are horny. You care not about the sin of homosexuality, just the mere act of nursing from my cock. You are a wonderful creature, Issac. Oh, keep doing that, Isaac, and I will become so uncomfortably hard!”
I push my lips to the base of his cock, delighting in the lack of hair to get stuck between my teeth. I suck until he’s keening and squirming. His toes curl and he empties into my throat. I ravish him with my tongue and lips until he is spent and twitching.
“Enough Isaac, please!”
I smirk at him and withdraw, licking the shrinking appendage like a kitten as my victim hisses and turns.
“I love your penis,” I say. “It satisfies me like nothing else.”
“I love when you’re randy and you fawn all over me like I am the most precious thing.”
“But you are!” I insist. “Your bravery, your audacity, your frankness, it is so exciting. No one else would even dream of waltzing into that ball dressed as you were! It would have been social and political suicide. For you, it just increases your legendary status as the most daring man in London.”
“Oh come off it, I don’t think I’d go so far.”
“I do think highly of you Rolf, I want you to understand.”
“I do, but it confuses me. I am just a rapscallion with rich parents.”
“But you’re my rapscallion,” I insist, nipping at his thigh with my teeth.
“Oh Isaac, you are going to drive me mad. Take off your breeches already. I’ve bared myself for you, don’t deprive me of the same.”
In the low candle light, I offer him a cookie and a teacup while I undress. He watches, transfixed. When we have both wet our lips, we set our cups down and I lie on top of him. His softness is under mine and I am uncontrollably aroused. Even half hard, I am wet and dripping and I rub my groin against his to mix our scents.
Rolf runs his fingers through my longish hair, dislodging the ribbon, and mussing the rest with his digits. Only then does he capture my mouth and plunder it, our lips dueling and dodging until they’re near numb from the collisions. I undulate on top, as Rolf does under me, and I am blissfully dizzy from our intense frottage. I affix my hands over his pectorals and dig the pads of my fingers into him like claws.
For a moment, there is no forward or backwards, the arousal is so interest and wonderful. I peer into his dark eyes, he gazes into my blue ones; we watch each-other’s flushed faces and wonder how the world could criminalize pleasure so divine. I feel closer to God during a good frot than any second spent in church. I lick my lips as I push my glans against Rolf’s crotch, humping at him like a dog in need. Rolf’s eyes roll back into his head and he spurts against me. My breath hitches and I push against him, rubbing madly as I climax just after him. We’re making a tremendous amount of noise, and I am glad I sent the house servants to bed already.
“Oh Isaac,” he sighs. I rest against him and kiss his jaw.
After a period of recovery, we find ourselves ravenous and consume the rest of the cookies and the ham croissants and the entire carafe of tea. Full, we splay out on the bed and talk and giggle.
My fingers soon find their way to his stockings. I sit up and move down to his feet. I massage his solid soles and long toes and nibble on his big toe through the fabric, making him giggle.
“Rolf?”
“hm?”
“Have you ever done anything…you know, more lustful?”
His eyes sparkle. “What do you mean?”
“Have you ever taken anything up your bottom?”
Rolf gawks at me. “You’ve heard of that too?”
“I heard it from James. He said it’s delightful, that he ejaculates enormous amounts.”
“Well, I must confess. I have played with my fingers after a bath, but I am not sure how to enjoy it without using vegetables.”
“If I can find you a proper wooden stretching dildo, would you let me penetrate you?” I ask, hopeful.
“Isaac, I cannot imagine how sex with you can get any better, but I rather love the image of you taking me like a woman. It would be the ultimate thumb to our puritanical society.”
I grin. “I shall go about procuring such a device first thing tomorrow.”
Rolf groans and lets his knees fall away. “God, to be fucked like a woman! with your fat prick up inside of me.” He runs his hands over his thighs and his cock stirs. “Oh the trouble us men get in to!”
“Are you aroused again?” I gawk.
“Immensely.”
I grin and run my hands over his thighs too. “Why don’t we take a bath and I’ll push my fingers inside of you? Pretend it’s my prick.”
“Isaac, you are going to the death of me. They will find me naked and covered in semen and dead tomorrow morning.”
I smirk. “It’ll be my greatest life accomplishment.”
Rolf gives me a fond look, and I can see it in his pretty eyes – he is in clearly and deeply love with me. I will let no one else have him ever again.
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Text is fictional. This is Italian Giulio Berrut in the movie Goltzius and the Pelican Company. This caption is not based upon the movie or intended to be a depiction of its characters or the actors’ personalities or sexualities.
