cock.
Chapter Two
Michael rushed up the stairs into the darkened bordello, anxious for relief. Madame DuPuis’ establishment was private and the girls were clean. Not only that, but she was particular about which gentlemen were allowed into her brothel. Certain men did have reputations that could be harmful to her girls. And he’d heard Madame DuPuis kept pristine records in black ledgers.
Not that he cared about the girls. They all looked the same to him and he had no plans to fuck one of them. He was getting very good at lying to himself, hiding the guilt by pretending he had yet to cross the line into adultery.
Alice DuPuis circulated in the garishly decorated lower floors where other men of his station sat with their purchased goods prior to retiring to the private chambers above.
“Dunnaway, I thought you weren’t coming back?” Alice had a big heart, a keen business intellect and an unerring accuracy in determining what a man wanted. Her question hinted of intimate knowledge. She’d known he would walk through the doors again. She’d had no doubt.
He smiled at her. “The best laid plans and all that.”
“The usual?” At his nod, she snapped her fingers and one of the girls moved quickly from the room.
Michael dropped payment into Alice’s open hand and followed her up the stairs, not that he couldn’t have found his own way. He’d been coming for six months, but he was no better.
And he thought he might even be worse.
Alice opened the door and waved her hand, inviting him in. She closed the door behind him and left him alone. He jerked at his cravat and then discarded his jacket before strolling to the cart of fine and varied alcoholic drinks the whorehouse so generously provided. He swallowed back two quick drams of Scottish whiskey to ease the guilt. Once he had his shirt off, he sank into the chair that faced the bed, setting aside a third drink. He yanked back the flaps of his trousers and pulled out his untrustworthy prick, already thickening in anticipation.
He didn’t have to wait long. The couple entered the room from another door and shed the robes they wore. They were both masked. He had no desire to know who these people were. They were just a means to a sexually satisfying end.
Worse than being here, he knew that soon he’d give in to the temptation at hand. His resolve weakened every time he walked through the door. He wanted to fuck. If he couldn’t do it with his wife, he knew he’d eventually do the deed with someone else.
For several long minutes, they cavorted and rolled on the bed, kissing mostly, paying him no attention whatsoever. He supposed that Madame DuPuis had clients who enjoyed being watched and she made money on that side of the transaction as well.
He stroked his cock slowly, anticipating the buildup toward release. He was in no hurry.
Dark hair spilled over the woman’s shoulders. He had no trouble imaging Clarissa.
The man tied the woman’s arms to the bedposts. He gave her no room for movement as her arms were spread wide. Her large breasts heaved as her chest moved up and down.
The man loomed over her, his cock near her face.
Michael stopped stroking, knowing he’d spill prematurely if he continued fondling his penis while watching the woman draw the large cock into her mouth. He squirmed, even arching a bit as if it were his cock she were about to suck.
It would only take a word for that to happen.
He reached for his drink and swallowed at the same time the cock disappeared into her mouth and down her throat. Her throat moved, swallowing whatever he was giving her.
Saving himself for the toys and final penetration, Michael steadied his breathing while they continued the performance on the bed. He knew that’s all it was. A performance to get him off, when all he wanted was his wife.
Every time he considered approaching her for such sexual activities, he’d both feared her reaction and feared he wouldn’t be able to live up to the