The Belvedere.

And More Excitement.

Harriet Studied him. He was a man about her own age. He held her up against his own body with her breasts pushing against his chest and that part of his, smaller now, pushing at her leg. She moved her legs apart and guided him to go with it between her legs as before, to sit along her again as she stood up with his help and leaned into him.

She was getting used to this.

He asked her to raise her arms so that he could dress her. However, once she had raised her arms he had been unable to ignore how her breasts had stood out, and he had kissed them as he pulled her lower body into him, shocking her into giggling again, feeling him moving between her legs.

She had become a wanton baggage!

He dropped her petticoat, dry now, and warm, over her head. He smiled at her, then leaned in and kissed her as he held her buttocks tight, pulling her onto him forcefully as he lost himself yet again in his excitement; his eyes closed and his warm breath flooding down her. How much wine had he given her to have her giggling over that, and what he was doing?”

Her arms had gone over his shoulders as he pulled her petticoat down around her and used her petticoat to wipe himself off her buttocks behind her. He touched her breasts again before he brought the front down.

Peculiar thoughts began to go through Harriet’s mind. She didn’t even know his name. Had he told her it as he had spoken to her? He was holding her against him to stop her falling over in her dreamy state, or was it to stop him coming free of her from between her legs? That wine had been strong.

He was looking at her face and into her eyes. He blushed at what he could see there.

“Are you alright? You are safe you know, despite….”

Despite what? What he had already done, and that stiff item of his where it was and wanting to be at her again as Fanny had said it would? It had become hard once more as he had come. It was still hard. She could feel it where it was.

“I am alright.” Those were almost the first words she had spoken to him. She was not alright but what was the use of complaining now? Her world had been brought crashing down around her. And what did he mean by telling her she was safe? The damage had been done enough times to her. How could she now be safe? And safe from what?

He pulled her petticoat down around her, front and back, without any help from her and then took her by surprise as he put his hand into the front of it without hesitation or asking her permission. He lifted her breasts to position them in her petticoat as he pulled it further down, before he sat her down again. That stiff part of his slipped from between her legs. He had touched her breasts many times now, and she had said nothing to stop him at any time.

Before she had given it any thought, she thanked him for helping her. She bit her lip in frustration. She had thanked him for touching her breasts and for doing that other to her and had done that without thinking, just as he had thanked her earlier when she had helped him come. This must indeed be a dream from which she would soon awaken.

It took longer for her heavier dress and for his clothing to dry, and then he brought her to her feet again to bring her dress down over her head. He turned her around, put his hand down the front of her dress again and checked for the position of her breasts once more, then tied it behind her, as it had been. She was now warm, as well as dry, while he was still naked.

He sat her down again and put her stockings on her feet after rolling them inside out to make it easier. They seemed difficult to get on, and must have shrunk. They would return to their proper shape in time, with her wearing them. He rolled them up to above her knees, with his hands moving under her dress, pushing it back from her. He should have put the stockings on her first, before her petticoat and dress, but she might not have survived that.

He folded her dress back upon her, requesting that she hold it there so that he could fasten her hose with their ribbons as before. She had to put her legs apart for him to do that for her, but she did not hesitate this time, feeling him touching her, showing obvious curiosity about her again, and everything he could see there.

She held her clothing up on herself so that he would be able to see what he was doing (and to see all of her as it gave him so much pleasure), no matter how intimate it was, or how exciting it was for him to see her. There was also a part of her that wanted him to see her there, wanted him to kiss her again as he had done earlier.

She felt him pause, and even swear politely at what he could see of her. He seemed to be as overcome by emotion as on that earlier time a few hours ago. She smiled at how she affected him. Her views on many things had changed. Did her body affect him so much in such an enchanting way? Yes, it did.

Would he kiss her there again? She would not have minded. Should she tell him that? (She should not have had that last glass of wine).

She moved her dress even higher out of the way, to see what he was doing, and to observe him. He was still naked, and was still aroused, but he no longer intimidated her as he had earlier. Nothing worse could happen to her now.

He had become excited doing that for her. She could clearly see that weapon of his—how strange to think of it like that, standing to attention for her, and it was even bouncing a little with the mushroom-like head of it pulsating in rhythm to his heartbeat and to hers too. He seemed short of breath, but then she felt light-headed and breathless herself.

Did he need her help with that again? She giggled at the thought. She reached out to touch him, but he was just out of reach.

After tying her stockings as they had been, and her with her dress high upon her with her holding it there like some common tart inviting the attention of all and sundry, he leaned forward, sliding his hands along her legs, touching her cheeks behind her again, pulling her into him. He kissed her again where he had kissed her before. She leaned back and sighed. Her legs rose as before, but under her own volition this time, and she had even moved them herself so that she could see what he was doing to her, but she could not see anything other than the top of his head and the folds of her dress, except that she could see that he had his eyes closed as he had moved into her to kiss her.

He had dressed her too soon. If she had not been dressed, he could have kissed her breasts too and done much more to her.

He did not linger so long over it this time, but long enough to cause her to become breathless. She had expected it this time and accepted it. He had been as unable to help himself this time as the first and lost himself again onto her. She said nothing. Surely, he must have sensed that she was also excited, by how moist she had become.

She could feel his warm breath upon her as he moved away. He had a flush upon his face. He pulled her petticoats and dress down around her to hide that vision away and then he put her shoes on her. Neither of them said anything.

What was it that Fanny had told her? That sight of a woman’s naked body, especially between her legs, and her breasts, inflamed any man. There were so many things that she was learning.