I watch him watching us, imagining how he would take me.
I send him the message with my eyes.
This is who I am.
I am Veronica Franco.
I am a COURTESAN.
I court the cultural elite for fame and fortune, giving my body to many.
And I’m good. So very good. After all, I was taught by my mother, and mother always knows best.
How else to please the future King of France than with the imaginative use of Murano glass? How else to fulfil the desires of all yet keep my sense of self-worth?
But when disaster strikes and my life begins to unravel, I’ll have to ask myself one question:
Is it too late to give my heart to just one man?
Set in Venice 16th Century.
Advisory: sensuously erotic. 18+
I open my arms and he comes into them, his bristly beard against my cheek. ‘My darling Andrew, how wonderful that you are here.’ We kiss, an achingly tender kiss, slow and gentle. There is great affection between us. His calloused palms catch the undersides of my breasts and cup them. His murmur of pleasure rumbles against my chest. I put my hands on his shoulders and run them down his back to curl around his buttocks. He presses into me, crushing his erect shaft between us.
I wrap the fingers of one hand around his prick, the other hand cupping his sack. Then I caress his length until I reach his tip, smiling as the first beads of moisture leak from him. Kneeling in front of him, I take him in both hands, pushing my hands down on him in a hand-over-hand cycle. When his breath starts to come in gasps, I lean forward and suck him into my mouth.
I have to stretch my jaw wide. He smells and tastes clean: musky, slick and smooth. Careful not to graze him with my teeth, I bob my head up and down, wrapping my lips around him. He tangles his fingers in my hair. One hand pumping him at the base, I slip the other one underneath to stroke the stretch of skin behind his balls. He pushes up with his hips and I lower my head to take him deeper. His body tenses as I work him with my hand and suck so hard my cheeks hollow. He gasps a shuddering breath, arches his back, and tightens his grip on my hair as he shoots a spurt of viscous saltiness against the back of my throat.
‘Ah, Veronica, tesoro. How I’ve dreamt of this for many a night while I’ve pumped myself and thought of you.’
‘And I of you.’
‘Except you weren’t without love, were you?’
‘There’s no love like yours, my dearest Andrew.’ And ’tis true. Andrew is a hero, a god, and I really do adore him.
‘Lie back, Veronica. Let me enjoy you and give you pleasure.’
He moves with agonizing slowness over my body, kissing me from the tips of my toes, up the length of my calves, across my hips, to arrive at my breasts. My nipples tingle and stiffen as he caresses one and sucks the other. Wetness soaks my figa, and I want to feel his mouth there.
I spread my legs apart, willing him to put his tongue inside me, but he runs it up my inner thigh instead, just outside my labia, then across my belly and down the other thigh. Oh, please, put it in! No such delight. He kisses behind my knees instead, then the soles of my feet. He runs his hands up my legs ahead of his kisses, touching his lips to my hipbones again, and finally, at last, to my core. Just a kiss, though, his lips stroking my entrance, then a single shallow lap of his tongue. I’m moaning and writhing in desperation. Ah, finally. His tongue flicks against my nub.
I groan and pull his head against me. He sucks on my pearl as he pushes his thumb into me, curling it to stroke my figa walls. His pace is still slow and he pauses once to spit into his other hand, smearing the saliva against my culo. His finger works its way in until I feel his knuckles against me. My breathing is a long-drawn, high-pitched moan, rising into a panting whimper as my joy approaches. I claw the bed and don’t even try to quieten my squeals. My figa muscles clench around his thumb and my arsehole clamps his finger as he moves both hands together. I twist in paroxysms of pleasure. Finally he takes his hands from me, and I’m as limp as a ragdoll.
Andrew gets to his feet, washes his hands in the basin (like I have taught him), and goes to the wine and biscotti he knows are on the table. He returns to the bed with them, then dunks a biscuit in the sweet vino and feeds it to me. I lie on my side, every bone in my body relaxed. Some wine has dribbled between my breasts. He licks it up and progresses to swirl his tongue around my nipples. They harden and a thrill of desire travels down to my figa. We kiss, our tongues laced together, our lips pulsing.
He rolls me over and his weight descends on me. I feel a new pressure probing my entrance, but he doesn’t enter me. Oh, how I want to beg him! Except, I won’t. His pleasure before mine, always. He pushes the tip in, grips himself in his hand and moves in circles inside me, brushing my pearl. I suck in a ragged breath. And then he pulls away. Oh, Dio! His lips find one breast, and his fingers the other. Oh, santo cielo!
Without warning, he thrusts into me with one push, driving to the hilt, hard. My eyes fly open and I breathe out a gasp. His mouth remains on my nipple, and he doesn’t thrust again, just stays there, buried to the root, our hips grinding together. I try to move against him, but he holds my hips down with one hand. I can feel my joy building; I want him to move, need him to thrust.
‘Please…’ I can’t help myself.
He grazes his teeth on my stiffened nipple, then moves to the other. His hand holds me down, keeping me from rolling my hips.
‘Andrew, please!’ I want him deep, want to feel his length sliding inside me.
He chuckles. ‘Please what?’
‘Please fuck me.’
‘Hard, or soft?’ He pulls out slowly then thrusts in hard.
‘Dio, yes! Like that.’
He withdraws bit by bit, until only the very tip of his prick is left inside me, and he hesitates there, stopping the flutter of my hips with his hand before crashing back into me. Again, and again, slow out, fast in. Deep thrusts. Hard into me.
He settles his weight on me, forearms planted underneath my neck, his lips crushing mine in hungry kisses. I wrap myself around him, holding him as he drives into me, faster now. He moans his joy, and the hot liquid of his seed fills me and tips me over the edge. Stars burst behind my eyes so intense is my climax. I let out a shriek. And still he thrusts into me, pushing me beyond joy into an intensity of pleasure so powerful it hurts. Finally he slows and strokes my face with trembling fingers. ‘That was unbelievable, Veronica. You have bewitched me.’
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Image courtesy of Siobhan Daiko
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