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The Conceit

A change of syntax
The light was weakening. The rosey fingered twilight a sema.

She turned to the chair in her bedroom, glanced outside, lifted the chair, and threw it out of the window. The shards cascaded on the cobbles below. Passersby looked up, swift footed, in shock, as adversity manifest.

She had ran, and dived, thinking of a dolphin. She flew. Not for long. Her general misfortune combined with the earth, the early morning, nourishing mountain mist, in serene satisfaction.

She ought to have looked within herself, perfecting her behaviour. Pardoning the faults in others, forgiving their offences. She could have revealed herself through intelligent virtues, controlled her indignation, been more moderate in her ideas. Rather she took the personal risk to carry out her purpose, the perpetuation of intelligence illuminating the four corners.

Her role had been attraction, conflict, resolution, danger. Mainly, not always.

She would present herself. Place her hand under their thigh, just as Abraham had instructed; operating in good conduct, elevating the social order. Mother and thigh, as it were. Conceits abounding.

The fertile pasture, damp, yielding. Generous and finding strength. Persevering pleasure. Thigh to thigh, gave penetration, strong and arousing. Belly to belly. Belly to thigh. Fertilising seeds in the receptive field. Mouth to thigh, on rigid ideas, wind and wood.

The pasture opened to a gorge, north to east. Ear and foot, was indeed her liberation, Kinghorn's tip really was glistening.

He was quite aroused. She sat back in her computer chair now swivelling slightly to either side, her long legs now neatly and elegantly crossed. Her skirt smoothed down, without a trace of where he had been. Her blouse still crisp, but now it appeared, the buds of her breasts had come alive, their trace just showing through faintly in the morning light. Her cheeks slightly flushed her blurry eyes now alive. That underlying excitement she sometimes suppressed, somehow betraying her.

The morning light was crisp and bright. Paris had come alive. The long French windows of the apartment let the light flood in. The blueness of the crisp clear sky gave freshness to the day.

For Kinghorn this was business.

His stiff middle classiness, made it hard for him to relax. He liked the Duchess; they got on very well sexually. They rarely talked. Twice in fact had they talked properly.

The one time on the plane between Carcassonne and London, when the co-pilot hadn't arrived, he wasn't essential for the short trip; she asked if she could sit by him. Impressed Kinghorn felt, by his command of her aircraft. She only had the one; it had been in fact her fathers. He noted her elegance then as she sat in the seat, and how she put on the head set. And how she had waved her hair, and lifted her arms to put it on, he smelt her beautiful smell that seemed unique to her, or perhaps he though in retrospect to her perfumer in Grasse.

He noted at that time three things seemed to emanate from her. She was liberated, she celebrated life in her own sophisticated special way, and she was an explorer of humanity for truth and ultimate happiness.

This took him to the second conversation in London. Soho in fact. A strange choice he thought for a Duchess. In a restaurant bar called Soho Soho, this was the early 90's. It was a Friday night. A piano played blues music as they drank; he had asked her how she relaxed. She was on the third wine splitzer. She laughed and told him the more splitzers she has, the more she relaxes. As he laughed, she sat back in her seat and uncrossed and crossed her legs, in the most beautiful and erotic way he had ever seen. He had a full clear view, for a very subtle second, of her tan stocking tops, thighs and skin coloured panty and matching garter belt. At that time he wished the view would last for ever.

He smiled to himself as he stood quite erect in front of her. He swivelled directly in front of him, both feet firmly on the floor, legs slightly open. His penis was still hard, still glistening. She took it in her mouth. Her lips sealing at one point round his manhood. He could almost have cum there and then.

What is going on with your pre cum? Kinghorn thought to himself. What a strange thing to say. He put this down to the aristocratic eccentricity she emanated. She stood perfectly still and left her to finish. She did. Looked him in the eye, reclining back once again, legs now crossed again, fingers light touching her pearl necklace.

"That was yummy Kinghorn," she said smiling. He stood still; she looked at him and his penis for some time and reclined back in her seat, pushed back slightly. Uncrossed her legs, and put both of her high heeled black shoes firmly on the floor. She looked him in the eye. Kinghorn was harder again. One hand had drifted onto her blouse, her breast in fact; she just slowly let it glide gently to and fro, over the tip of her nipple, that Kinghorn imagined must, by now be quite, quite erect.

She smiled, breathed in and looked. His naked body, penis erect, black shoes, and black socks. White underwear at his ankles. She breathed in deeply and smiled.

She started to pull up her black skirt and at the same time gently and slowly started to open, her beautiful long legs. She did this so slowly, it aroused Kinghorn immensely. His erect cock had allowed a small drip of pre cum to escape and fall to the wooden floor below. Few would have noticed, but she did.

The light was catching her beautifully, her high heeled black shoes, charcoal stockings, white thighs, undergarments crisp and clean. She reached down slowly and let her hand glide around her panty, near and around her opening.

Kinghorn stood very, very still and remained quite erect.

After some time more. Aroused. Flushed. Breathing slightly deeper. She gave Kinghorn his command.

The light was flooding in. He knelt between her open legs as she had asked. Watching her play. Short but gentle moves. A slight damp patch emerging he thought.

He looked in detail around him. Everything was in such beautiful close proximity, a leg on either side, stocking clad, beautifully finished with her shoes. Her garter belt straps, dark, silver grey, contrasted beautifully with the charcoal of the stockings, the milky white of her thigh. Her matching silver grey panty, her French manicured hand slightly sun tanned, her beautiful ring sparkling in the light on the finger of her hand as she moved. Back and forth, back and forth.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

He knelt for sometime and watched her hand at work. It was a beautiful sight, and he enjoyed watching her. After some time she twitched, and squirmed, the damp patch was definitely evident, she restrained herself. Almost, thought Kinghorn to himself.

Lips red, cheeks flushed eyes on fire she looked down at him. "Its now time Kinghorn," the Duchess said. She pushed aside her panty. Her lips glistened. Her clitoris swollen. Kinghorn new what he had to do, and gently took her clit between his lips and gently sucked it like she had instructed in with her nipple, so long ago. Using the suction between his lips and cheeks, and built up speed, and increased the pressure. In and out, in and out.

In and out. In and out.

This went on for some time. She jerked once again, uncontrollably, almost cumming in this instance, for certain thought Kinghorn. But he was wrong. She could get so close to the end and stop. She pulled back out of his mouth.

She sat more upright. Pushed his head down a little to her opening. He opened his mouth wide. She was wetter than normal he thought to himself. She squirmed and clenched her muscles a little, pushed, and out it slid. Into his mouth, Silky from her juices.

All ninety four uncut, almost flawless, most likely blue white carats of it.

The Duchess let out a long moan, and then handed Kinghorn a small silver tray with a crisp clean white napkin on it. Kinghorn removed the stone from his mouth and placed it on the tray, on top of the napkin, as she gestured.

She stood. Told Kinghorn to stand and walked through to the next room, the dining room. Pulled out a chair faced it in front of the window, and told Kinghorn, now very erect to be seated. He complied, and sat on the very chair she had place in front of the window. He sat, penis erect.

She looked and smiled.

Standing for some moments. Then she straddled him. Lowered herself, panties pulled to one side, and with one hand, nimbly guided Kinghorn in.

He remained still. She moved to get properly comfortable. High heels firmly on the floor, bum pushed back, back slight arched. The trip back from Johannesburg has been long and tiring, she was going to enjoy the release from the stress of it all. The excitement, the risk, the danger, the adventure of the journey stimulated her.

She started to plunge down on Kinghorn, arms on top of his shoulders. Looking him in the eye. Hair and necklace bouncing. Breast still encased in her wonderful bra. Momentarily she paused. Quickly removing the blouse, unclasped the bra, and it was gone. Breast released and bouncing freely, speed increasing, gentle panting. The pleasure building, the fire within, down in her needed the release which she had earlier held back from. It would not be much longer.

Within moments her muscles where clinching Kinghorn's shaft. He flexed his tip for her, deep inside her. She quivered, and came, squirting as she did.

Biting her lower lip, looking drained she gave Kinghorn that deep long sultry look she did when she had really enjoy him. Relaxed on top of him, and then hugged him firmly. She stood. Bending over Kinghorn, stocking legs straight she held and stoked Kinghorn's penis. It was firm, and wet from her juices.

She told him to stand. She swatted down in front of him. He stood still but looked down at her as she worked for him. Dark brown hair, beautiful breasts bobbing as she worked, stocking clad legs.

His tip was swollen, she moved back and forward. The Duchess smiled up at him, and with her other hand gently squeezed his balls. She smiled again biting again her lower lip. Looking him closely into his eyes she smiled fully, then nodded, bit her lip again, squeezed tight as she pulled down on the shaft, feeling Kinghorn's involuntary movements and let Kinghorn explode into her beautiful aristocratic face.

He remained still. She moved to get properly comfortable. High heels firmly on the floor, bum pushed back, back slight arched. The trip back from Johannesburg has been long and tiring, she was going to enjoy the release from the stress of it all. The excitement, the risk, the danger, the adventure of the journey stimulated her.

She started to plunge down on Kinghorn, arms on top of his shoulders. Looking him in the eye. Hair and necklace bouncing. Breast still encased in her wonderful bra. Momentarily she paused. Quickly removing the blouse, unclasped the bra, and it was gone. Breast released and bouncing freely, speed increasing, gentle panting. The pleasure building, the fire within, down in her needed the release which she had earlier held back from. It would not be much longer.

Within moments her muscles where clinching Kinghorn's shaft. He flexed his tip for her, deep inside her. She quivered, and came, squirting as she did.

Biting her lower lip, looking drained she gave Kinghorn that deep long sultry look she did when she had really enjoy him. Relaxed on top of him, and then hugged him firmly. She stood. Bending over Kinghorn, stocking legs straight she held and stoked Kinghorn's penis. It was firm, and wet from her juices.

She told him to stand. She swatted down in front of him. He stood still but looked down at her as she worked for him. Dark brown hair, beautiful breasts bobbing as she worked, stocking clad legs.

His tip was swollen, she moved back and forward. The Duchess smiled up at him, and with her other hand gently squeezed his balls. She smiled again biting again her lower lip. Looking him closely into his eyes she smiled fully, then nodded, bit her lip again, squeezed tight as she pulled down on the shaft, feeling Kinghorn's involuntary movements and let Kinghorn explode into her beautiful aristocratic face.

She looked up, around the bedroom, then outside….she lifted the chair, threw, and ran. She had become the dolphin.

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