He kicked off his shoes upon flopping down on the comfy
couch by the fireplace. Unusual home, he thought, with
its odd mixture of 20th Century kitsch and late
medieval charm. Scattered about the grand hall, which
Nisha termed "my great room", were knickknacks from her
1990's world. A crystal vase, a porcelain
ashtray...
Although he was quite alone in this place, Jehan Frollo
could still feel her presence. The heady oriental scent
of Shalimar hung in the room; even a whiff of cigarette
smoke stung his nostrils. Jehan Frollo, Claude's
spendthrift layabout brother, a man to whom life is one
mad giddy whirl of pleasure, is about to take the
plunge into his...Latent Ecstasy.
My mind always wanders back to her, to Danisha. But why
do those unwanted thoughts stay there? She is my
brother's lady after all! I can't ever tell her the
depths of my true feelings. O the unwitting yearning
that heats my loins. The ever-growing hardness of my
manpiece never ceases whenever I conjure her image, her
presence...
In this most comforting of settings, I can allow my
mind to take me to that little paradise where I alone
go. Claude will never -- must never -- discover the
latent desires I feel for his lady. She is
different...from another country, another time. Ah! The
delicious, tantalizing beauty that I can only desire
from afar...She shall never be mine...
She and I share a bond much like that of siblings; yet
whenever in her presence, especially of late, a
profound yearning comes over me that is beyond
description. I know, I know...she belongs to Claude,
and my brother is extremely possessive...He would
certainly cause me harm if he ever found out my "hidden
lust"...
She is not here, but with him, of that I'm certain. In
a way, I'm glad she is not here, for I can indulge a
little fantasy and no one will be the wiser.
Danisha is such a stunner! That deep toasted almond
complexion, so smooth and fine. Those dark brown eyes
that sparkle whenever I'm in her presence. The sound of
her voice, a dusky, rich contralto, sends me into
quivering fits of frenzied desire. Combine that voice,
those looks, with an oh-so-tender touch...
Mon Dieu, how I wish she was here! O my loins ache and
throb with unfulfilled lust; I fear I may burst if
relief does not come soon. Is it true, that some men
have actually died from unquenched passion?
O Mother of God, forgive me for these unwanted and
unholy thoughts! I am in love with another man's lady,
and she will never be mine except in my wildest and
darkest of dreams....
"Hey, Jehan. Would you care for a cocktail?"
What is this? Are my eyes deceiving me? It is Danisha,
coming towards me with a container of sorts. Why isn't
she with Claude? I don't understand this...
"Oh, Jehan, it got so boring at the Palais. I sat
through case after case while Claude kept giving
pointers to the new Minister of Justice. So I just left
and came on home...Honey, I'm making martinis. Want
one?"
Am I dreaming? Of course not, for Nisha is sitting here
next to me, offering refreshment. O how delicious she
is, in this light. What is she wearing? Mmm...dark
purple duchess satin, trimmed in black velvet...regally
appointed...such daring decolletแge...
Her hair, all dark and gleaming, loosely drawn up into
a sensual twist. Yet strands fall about her burnt sugar
face. And those lips, those succulent deep dark
blackberry-stained lips, ready to part with a smile, or
perhaps, taste my own...
"Jehan, I know you haven't sampled too many drinks of
my time period. Martinis are good this time of
year...Maybe we can play a little seven card draw or
shoot the dice..."
It has always been that way between us: She and I
indulging in strong drink and games of chance. Then,
perhaps, an exchanging of ribald stories that would
definitely make the Archdeacon blush.
But tonight, there will be something more than "Campari
and craps".
Mmm...that fragrance, that Shalimar, wafts my senses. The scent of vanilla and orchids and... Oh God, that heat in my loins again, that unwitting swelling...
She is leaning closer to me, whispering how much she loves these 20th Century cocktails. What is she asking me? Something about shaken versus merely stirred.
"Now, Jehan, the secret to the perfect martini is to
make sure it's well shaken. Of course it makes sense to
use the finest quality gin and vermouth..."
She is a vision of sensual delight, all polished and
poised, ready to pounce me any moment. For I know she
wants me as badly as I want her. Ooh, watching her
shake that container of spirits...The generous cleavage
jiggling quite tantalizingly...That slight smile she
sports...
I know you, sweet Nisha, and the power you carry
between those plump, shapely thighs. It's no wonder my
brother is oh-so contented after spending a few days
with you. Such women have that effect on the hardest
and most difficult of men, and Claude is not the
easiest man to please.
It's more than your physical beauty. And you are
certainly not...what one would call a "Miss
Loosey".
No! The refinement, that tight rein on the sensual
pleasures, reserving those sweet tasting sensations for
only one man...
But, Danisha, my dear, will you do the honors of
pinning me to the floor and ravishing me on the spot?
"Hmm, ooh, Danisha...dear..."
She made the drink good, strong, and cold. I never had
gin before, not even vermouth. This is rather good
although my brother disdains such concoctions.
What is this? She's putting her hand on my thigh; the
other is undoing my doublet.
"I'm sorry, Jehan, but being with you is such a thrill...I may love your brother heart and soul, but right now, I want to have fun with you..."
The strong drink has clouded my mind but this is real
-- She unfastens my doublet and unlaces my hose with
the quickness of a cutpurse. Her hands search, caress,
and fondle those forbidden places.
Now her mouth grazes mine; the lips and tongue
slithering along my neck and chest. In one swift move,
she has managed to strip me of my shirt. The strong
drink, the gin, has befogged my mind; every ounce of
good reason I ever possessed has been dashed to pieces.
Mon Dieu! This is my brother's lady, and she proceeds
to ravish me, to fondle me, with the most amazing
abandon! She is actually enjoying herself, and she's
enjoying every moment, every inch, of me...
Oh, my tender Nubian blossom, take me to that lovely paradise, upon Eros' shores...
The dress is unfastened in a way that exposes her
delectable bosom. How the firm flesh tumbles free from
its prison, and now I can finally sample what drives my
brother to distraction.
Danisha straddles me, clamping my pelvis tightly
between generous and toned caramel-tinted thighs. It's
like being trapped in a vise; there is no escape.
Her lips and tongue devour mine, and I return each and
every caress with equal fervor.
Yet, in the throes of passion, I simply forget what I'm
doing and allow to feel what she's doing to me. My
skin, wet from her knowing tongue, is flushed with
carnal craving. My manpiece swells and surges as Nisha
finally guides it into her woman's depths. Oh! The
pleasure of being sucked inside, of having myself
gripped so firmly within her. She does the same for my
brother, and no other man but my brother. But for
tonight, she is giving me the most joyous, most
passionate, romp...
"My darling, a little tighter!"
She rides me as if I was a wild stallion, untamed,
unbroken, unwilling to be anyone's kept animal. Her
words tumble forth, spurring me onwards. Her muscles
exert great pressure as she grinds her pelvis against
mine. My body cannot help but buck and slam against
hers.
Her arms grip my head, burying it deep within her
swollen bobbing breasts. My penis surges forth, digging
deeper and deeper into her engorged female secrets.
I've had many a lover in my life, but nothing compares
to the wonders I'm feeling now.
Is it the freer nature of the 20th Century woman that
causes Nisha to give so much of herself during
lovemaking?
It has to be. The women of my time will on occasion
totally give themselves to a man, however not so much
as women in Nisha's time.
The thrusts are coming faster now. I can feel myself swelling and throbbing deep within her. It's that magical moment. The time when the passion erupts in frenzied trembling, writhing, screaming pleasure. The body takes over now, nothing to do but...LET IT COME!
"Oh! Ah! Umm! Nisha, give it to me!"
As if plunging into the river and caught in its
powerful current, my body struggles in passion's
climax, that delirious sensation when everything simply
explodes.
Nisha grips me within her; I can feel her quivering
and convulsing upon me. The raging storm within my own
loins refuses to relent. Nothing compares to this, as
Nisha continues to slink and wriggle on me like a
copulating snake; I finally match her every move.
Oh, the feel of silky brownsugar skin, all sticky and
slick with sweat. The taste of her mouth on mine; how
those lips and that tongue seem to devour me.
I feel myself erupt within her, that final expulsion of
my precious seed. A few more upward thrusts as I empty
my load deep inside Danisha's engorged and pulsating
loins.
My groans and growls of pleasure are swiftly answered
with purrs of satisfaction of her own.
She still has me pinned to the couch; her legs still
clamped possessively around my body. Her kisses come
quickly and hungrily; she begs for more.
"Oh, Jehan, you're so good. Deep down, I knew you'd
be so sensual, so damned wonderful..."
Our bodies seem to congeal together as our perspiration
intermingles. Panting and moaning like animals in heat,
we cling to each other, oblivious of the certain
consequences. But the realizations come fast and
furious, at least for me.
O Mother of God! I've just been ravished...screwed....fucked...by the most skillful, most desirable woman I've ever known. My body will never be the same; the only woman I'll ever want is here, although she truly belongs to my brother.
"Darling, is this what they call -- Hmm -- being shaken
and stirred?"
"Jehan, I hope you enjoyed your martini, and
the...umm...added "happy hour" treats."
"Oh, Danisha, if only you were free, then we could..."
"Jehan! Jehan! Wake up."
Who, what? Nisha? Is that you?
"Honey, we got home not long ago. Claude is upstairs
putting Nadine to bed. Jehan, have you been drinking?"
"Oh, I'm sorry Danisha; for you see, I helped myself to
some of your gin. I hope you don't mind..."
Damn it all to Hell! A dream, nothing more than a fantasy! But when I look at her, and breathe in her perfume, it happens all over again.
"Jehan, do you mind if you...umm...take a hike. Claude
and I plan to spend the evening here -- alone. As soon
as Nadine is put to bed, we...Well, you know. But
thanks for waiting up and minding the house."
"Don't need to remind me, Nisha. I'll make myself
scarce..."
And find myself in a brothel, in the arms of a woman
who only sates the urge, but never the heart.
Nisha, when you are with him tonight, I truly hope you will think of me. For I, whilst coupling with a faceless harlot, will once again conjure your image, your fragrance, your very being...
To tell the truth, this is one time when I truly hate my brother. O what a lucky man!
Copyrightฉ2000 by FrolloFreakฎ
