It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a large fortune will not often have to spend the night alone, and so it was for Tree. Barb had a few more nights of freedom and she was close enough to her marriage to be unconcerned about any consequences of a night of passion, and so she really let her hair down. Tree, for his part, expected to put 140 years between himself and any consequences, and he had managed to get himself pretty horny watching Rossetti and Eulalia earlier. So it was that a very good time was had by them both, and the only people who didn’t have a fantastic night were the unfortunate guests in the surrounding rooms.
Barb had had so many orgasms she’d lost count, and by now he’d got her tied to the four poster, which she was enjoying immensely. Tree’s tongue had just made contact with her clitoris once again, and she was helpless to resist. Not that she had the slightest intention of doing so, in all her life she’d never met anyone who could work her clit like Tree could. He was a clitoral impresario, a maestro of the female genitalia, as artistically accomplished with the anterior labia as any concert pianist with a grand piano. The performance built through growing cascades of pleasure, a true ode to joy climbing to a grand crescendo of release, and Barb shrieked with the sheer delight of yet another orgasm.
She thought she was spent. But Tree wasn’t. And he knew that it was time to bring this magnum opus to a grand finale. Barb could not believe her own body could generate such joy, as the energy of his passion and the intensity of his thrusts caused yet more reaction in the depths of her pelvis. “Oh, God, I don’t believe it! It’s happening again!” Tree believed it, and, as he felt the rhythm of her final orgasm he came himself. He released her bonds, then they collapsed into each other’s arms and finally the neighbours could get some sleep.
“God, I wish you were the Earl,” she murmured, after a few moments.
“Wham, bam, and thank you ma’am?” queried Tree.
“That’s about it. Still, he’s got a huge….estate. I take it you’re married?” she asked, hoping for a negative.
“I am, yes….”
“Damn. Oh well. England expects every gal to do her duty. Even the ones from Minnesota. Can I…”
“No, Barb, I’m sorry, you can’t.”
“Why?”
“I, er, travelled some distance to get here.”
“So did I!”
“Yes, but I have to go back!”
“Damn,” she repeated. “But when I visit the USA…..”
“Barb, I’m sorry. It’s complicated.” How could he explain that she was well over a century older than him?
“They all say that. Love you and leave you. Bloody men. Still, it was fun. Night Tree.”
“Night Barb.”
She got out of bed, dressed, but she kissed him before she left. At the door she paused. “Tree?”
“Yes, Barb?”
“Will you introduce me to Rossetti tomorrow?”
“Sure I will. My carriage will collect me at eight.”
The door closed softly behind her.
