Like a Wisp of Steam by Thomas Roche (best reads of all time txt) 📕

arse; squeeze it with your nails. Yes, that's right, dig them in, hard as you can."

Amelia's experience in such matters was practical; it came entirely from visits to ladies' pleasure-houses such as this one. Perhaps that was the reason she was so particular—unlike many a respectably married woman, she was familiar with possibilities of the body, and understood exactly what delights could be hers for the asking. She had been called on by gentlemen since she was fifteen, and had had many suitors, but marriage had eluded her, or she it. It was a lack in some eyes, but not one she felt a need to dwell on. Her stories had given her a career, respect, and money, and those things afforded her between them everything else she might desire.

She dropped the last item of her clothing to the ground and padded naked over to the pair of grappling chimerae. As Mary Ann continued to tongue and suck the Raphael's balls, Amelia took his cheeks between her hands, pulled his face to hers and kissed him deeply. She bit his lower lip in her teeth and tugged sharply at it.

The Raphael gasped, moved his hands from Mary Ann's shoulders to Amelia's. He had some typical male aggression bred into him, an urge to dominate; but there was passivity there as well, in consideration of customers who might require it. It was one reason Amelia had chosen this model, and a good thing, too. Had she requested a Herakles or a David, she might not have been able to deflect those grasping hands as easily as she did. After the afternoon she had just endured, she herself had no interest in being passive.

"Lie down," she told the Raphael, not unkindly. "On the bed there, go on. Spit-spot."

The chimera pouted at her, then at Mary Ann, who was still busily at work on his balls. Finally, reluctantly, he broke away and went to the bed. A moment later, Amelia joined him.

"I'm going to enjoy this," she told Mary Ann. She spat into her palm and swiftly lubricated the Raphael's cock. He spread his long legs for her, sliding his hands under his arse and pushing his middle upward, making his phallus a more appealing target.

Amelia climbed onto the Raphael. Slowly, gingerly, hissing, she impaled herself.

Oh God. Oh sweet lord Jesus, that's good, it is. It was: the grind of the rough-silky thatch of pubic hair and bone on her clitoris, the painful but delicious sensation of being filled.

Chills wracked her body as she rode the Raphael. He lay with both hands under his arse, smiling beatifically at her as he was fucked.

Mary Ann came up behind Amelia, kneeling in the little space between her and the Raphael's legs. She put her arms around her mistress and nipped her bare shoulders, squeezed her nipples and twisted them like dials. She still hadn't removed her own clothes, probably out of sheer laziness. She couldn't have known how oddly pleasurable the roughness and softness of her dress made her embrace to Amelia.

"Harder. More, do it like that." Amelia forced herself to keep her hands away from the itch on her breasts, concentrating on making the sensation spice the pleasure of fucking the chimera's prick. She set her own hands on the Raphael's chest, dug her nails into the smooth skin.

Mary Ann's small fingers stroked and tickled and scratched her breasts and belly and sides. Her mouth with its tongue and small hard teeth bit and sucked at her shoulders and the nape of her neck. It was heaven and it was maddening. The delicacy of it drove Amelia on, jerking herself back and forth on the Raphael, as though he were a steed she was riding to some unguessable destination.

She felt the orgasm approaching, like a light-filled cloud she could barely see. Sobs wracked her as she fell forward, her hair falling into the Raphael's face, making them seem, for a moment, one merged ecstatic creature.

* * * *

"It's ruh-really appalling, isn't it? About Huh-her Majesty, I mean..."

Amelia, enjoying the smooth motion of the boat, managed a properly concerned frown, and a brief nod that managed to convey agreement without encouraging further chatter. She understood that Dodgson was only making polite conversation, but lately the royal death at Buckingham Palace was all anyone talked about. It had become rather tiresome.

And the afternoon was lovely, a sunny July day, absolute perfection. She was glad now that she had accepted the daguerrographer's hesitant invitation to join him on an outing, though it had taken her nearly a week of shilly-shallying to make up her mind.

"Did she really choke on a chicken-bone?" Mary Ann inquired, munching an apple. The chimera had accompanied them on the picnic at Dodgson's suggestion, to lend the afternoon a certain air of propriety. Remembering the afternoon with the Raphael, Amelia had to smile. Mary Ann was not quite the ideal chaperone, she thought, if in fact that was what Dodgson had in mind. Well, perhaps she'd give her servant a chance to demonstrate that to their earnest, gentlemanly host. A bit later, perhaps.

"A ch-chicken bone, yes, s-so they say," Dodgson said, shaking his head sadly. "Hardly suh-seems possible. The world will change now, y-you know, in all sorts of ways."

"Have I complimented you recently on those daguerrographs of yours, Mr. Dodgson?" Amelia said lazily.

"They really are delightful, and Mr. Roxby tells me they've exceeded all his expectations in terms of spurring sales."

Dodgson looked genuinely pleased. "Ah, you're tuh-too kind, Miss Lessington."

"You're a man of considerable talents. You know, I wonder that you don't try your hand at a fairy story."

Dodgson shook his head ruefully. "Nuh-not my line, I'm afraid. Oh, I've suh-set down a fancy or two, for the chuh-children of fuh-friends, but I'm much better at puh-puzzles.

Problems of muh-mathematical logic, you see. For example,"

he continued, with the unmistakable air of one preparing to mount an endlessly-ridden, well-loved hobbyhorse. "If one were to take a train from London to Edinburgh..."

"No," Amelia said