The Travels Of A Nymphomaniac 32 Torrent Of Lust. Part 2

In the shade of a huge hazelnut tree in the centre of the back garden, sitting in front of a pink marble table in the company of a Count pa.s.sing through the area, the Baron sniffs at the contents of the porcelain cup for a long time before bringing it to his lips.

He tastes this nectar of the G.o.ds without hurrying. Taking all his time to appreciate its full flavour, he swallows drop after drop of his heavenly beverage, but discreetly, he keeps an eye on the high n.o.ble who has also just brought the precious cup to his mouth.

In reading in the eyes of the important person, an expression of surprise followed by the impression of a very pleasant discovery, when the Baron observes this high n.o.bleman throwing himself on his beverage of a purity never before observed and drinking it in one go, between pride of a male and accomplishment of a life, his heart wavers.

"Baron, you are known for your intelligence and deviousness, but by the horns of the devil, where did you get this nectar worthy of the G.o.ds themselves?"

Not expecting that high lineage n.o.ble today, the Baron, who forgot to shave this morning, finally finds it very convenient to stroke a chin with a few short hairs on it. Proudly, he can't help but slightly swell his chest and directs his gaze towards one of the bas.e.m.e.nt window, located not far from their table.

"Dear Mr. Count, this drink is put in barrels right here. At the estate, as the winegrowers like to say. In fact, it is a home-made production. I am the happy husband of a charming young woman whose b.r.e.a.s.t.s can not only produce the best milk, but can also produce it in almost infinite quant.i.ties. To put it bluntly and plainly: As long as I milk my wife, she can produce the delicious beverage you're wearing on your lips right now."

Slightly sceptical of this pretentious and ambitious statement, the Count frowns. This Baron is a very influential man. If he is certainly not by his modest t.i.tle of n.o.bility, his wealth, which allows him to establish himself wherever he wants and to bind himself to the biggest families, makes him someone with whom it would be foolish to argue.

Taking this fact into account, the Count, whose character is not of the best, calms his ardour and smiling, he nods towards the pretentious one in green satin clothes.

"Could I be so pretentious as to judge to the udder? It is common knowledge that milk loses more than half its flavour immediately after leaving the female's udder, so..."

Very glad it was his visitor who asked, the baron smiled politely at the impatient man.

"Precisely, it is time for her daily milking session. I myself injected her with my miraculous product more than an hour ago, and if I don't immediately pull her on the udders, I fear that, bothered by her so delicious nipples harder than stone, my beauty will suffer needlessly. So, let's go. Please, after you, sir Count."

...

When the Count enters one of the rooms in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the castle, facing the unworthy vision of a civilized n.o.bleman, which he directly witnesses, the refined man recoils with fear.

The Baron expected no less from this sissy living on the outskirts of the capital. Not worrying very much, for being certain of the turn that the events will take, he crosses the threshold of the door and moves aside to leave the line of sight free for this Count who is too fragile.

The Count comes from these retrograde families who socialize the old-fas.h.i.+oned way. Dining happily in front of a good leg of lamb in the company of guests as cultivated as they are distinguished, he likes to have a good game of charade afterwards in front of an invigorating fireplace.

His interests are therefore far removed from what's happening in this room at the moment.

However, he doesn't deny that his s.e.x is much more vigorous at the moment than it ever was during his so disputed charades.

One step and the one that the Baron considers as a sissy who perfumes hiself like a wh.o.r.e from the lower quarters of the capital, crosses the threshold of the room that makes him more or less think of a torture chamber.

Unconsciously, the frail n.o.ble man, whose b.u.mp in his trousers makes the very fine fabric unattractive, noisily swallows his saliva.

A second step to get a better idea and be able to judge the scene more objectively, and there he is now less than six feet away from three naked young women who are probably playing together.

His eyes are now directed towards the ceiling, from where four metal chains connected to large hooks descend to the floor. As he follows the metal chains, the Count realizes that his initial a.s.sessment of the situation was not wrong.

At the end of two of the metal chains, other hooks are inserted into small metal rods that have been implanted into the nipples of a sublime tall blonde with huge b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Under the actions of two adorable naked girls with cute little t.i.ts who, on either side of the beautiful blonde pull one of the other two metal chains, the tall girl, whose eyes are blindfolded, as her large and very long nipples dangerously stretch out, the young woman who screams without stopping, is lifted towards the ceiling by her enormous b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Worried, seeing that the beauty is suspended in the air only with the help of her huge b.r.e.a.s.t.s a little blue and completely stretched towards the ceiling, the Count reaches out his hand towards her.

Increasingly happy with this unexpected visit, the Baron gestures his hand towards the two pretty girls, who immediately release some of the enormous pressure exerted on Rhea's nipples.

Confused by the vision of the young girls very slowly releasing the chains, the Count covers his mouth as he sees the v.a.g.i.n.a and the a.s.shole of the beautiful girl impaling herself a little deeper and deeper on two metal pillars whose extremely rapid rotation projects the abundant cyprin secreted by the young v.a.g.i.n.a, in all directions.

Pa.s.sing his tongue around her lips to taste the juice that this beauty's p.u.s.s.y has kindly offered him, a hand takes the Count out of his gastronomic moment.

"It will cost you four thousand pieces of gold to amuse yourself with this beauty that you can't take your eyes off, my dear Count. Don't look at me like that, it's still my wife, and those instruments cost a fortune, I must make a profit from my little private sessions."