Page 47 of Dick Stone, Regency Stud
At the outset, Lord Edward wanted to conclude this farce quickly and go back to Mrs. Chaffinch’s boarding house for some milk. Now he just wanted to let Charlotte Dalpole milk his cock until he exploded inside her.
“Do you let your husband fuck you like this, Baroness? Let him mount you?”
“My husband is a gentleman!” she huffed, all while said gentleman sat among other lords working himself into a lather at the sight of his wife taking Edward so well while swollen with child.
“Seems there’s an opening the lady’s husband might fill,” said one of the younger men across the room, who half stood to shout his suggestion before he got swatted by his friends nearby.
The room was quiet save Edward’s pants and Charlotte’s mewls, the squeaks from men shifting to accommodate fattened cocks having ceased as they waited to see what the hosts would do.
Baron Dalpole stood as if under the spell of a spiritualist. “This young scholar is right. Why didn’t I see it before? The position selected for breeding offers certain opportunities for a husband looking to take part.”
He walked to the tea table, where Charlotte’s mouth hung open as she panted from being ridden by Edward. “If the lady does not object, the husband could have a very enjoyable interlude.”
The baron placed a hand on Charlotte’s cheek lovingly. Then he slid his thumb into her mouth, pulling it to the side so he could peer in.
“A very enjoyable interlude indeed,” he said darkly while fumbling for his falls.
Edward gentled his thrusts so the Dalpoles could enjoy their moment but wished he could dump his load like a cart full of dirt and leave. He’d given them too much leeway on account of the baron’s status as a hero and his own as a disgrace, but if the road back to theton’sapproval lay through a series of ambushes like this one, he could stay on the outskirts of society.
All around the room, the bounds of propriety were breaking. Men who had been discreetly stroking themselves over their breeches now had their cocks out, flagrantly working them while watching Charlotte kiss the head of her husband’s cock as she took another man from behind in her cunny.
A few men were giving each other a hand. One libertine — damn the law and polite society — mimicked everything Charlotte was doing to her husband on the cock of a handsome lord who looked well satisfied with the turn of events.
Ahh, if he were to stop now, there’d likely be a riot and decent men might lose their cocks, given that the things were mostly out and in use now. In another life, he’d have been one of those stroking lordlings watching the show. Best to carry on and give the men Dick Stone’s finest performance.
“So you see,” said Edward, his voice carrying, “where husbandly breeding is impossible or undesirable, a stud might step in. But it should not just be any old cock of the walk!”
Ever mindful of the niche he’d carved out for himself, Edward needed to impress upon the audience the requirement of a professional, else any old man could step in and undercut his business. Why, many of these blokes would do it at no charge at all!
“What has not been shared before now, but is essential for scientific, modern breeding, is the pleasure of a woman. The lady must experience paroxysm at least once before the seed is deposited, or the breeding will be less likely to work.”
The gentlemen exchanged glances, some of them likely struggling to recall a time they’d brought a woman to pleasure. Fools.
Edward reached down to stroke Charlotte’s nub as she struggled to take her husband’s cock in her mouth. Never let it be said that the baroness allowed her husband’s war wounds to dampen her ardor; that cunt was wetter than ever as Edward stroked in and out.
“Are you enjoying your breeding, madam?” asked Edward solicitously.
He’d forgotten that she had her mouth full of the baron’sdalpole, and she made noises in response as the baron tested her mouth a little deeper.
“Oh, Charlotte, Charlotte, you angel!” the baron cried as he lost himself in his wife’s throat.
Edward gave the couple a moment to exchange their coos of love and devotion before he pushed himself in deeper and stroked Charlotte’s cunny with more ruthless skill.
“Would you like to show these men a breeding paroxysm? Demonstrate the force of pleasure needed to fully receive a stud’s seed?”
From the cupboards at the side of the room, the spectators had removed chamber pots, and they were rushing to empty their sacks into those porcelain receptacles as the scene beforethem became more than their untried cocks could bear. Good. Let those lads show their status as amateurs while a true bull worked a lady to motherhood. Or in the case of the already-bred Charlotte Dalpole, an orgasm the likes of which these fools had never seen on account of their lack of skill.
“You see those chamber pots full of seed?” asked Edward, hoping to bring this evening to its conclusion.
The baroness looked up from the table, where she was bracing against his thrusts, and moaned.
“Those men want to pour all of that into your wet, waiting cunny.”
She cried out, and he felt the first flutters of her orgasm. Good.
“But you will not let them in there, will you?” he asked, noting that the Baron had resumed his seat with a sated, contented expression on his face. Such was the comfortable life of a hero after winning the war. But who was Lord Edward to begrudge him his spoils? Edward had merely lost his honor, while the baron nearly gave his cock.
“No, no, not them. Not all of them.”
