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La Bella And Il Mostro (part 3 And Epilogue) free porn video
As Jutta entered the ballroom the party guests quieted in overlapping waves, like wheat in a windblown field. The crowd had never seen anything quite like the tall black-clad vision that swept through the room. She wore a midnight silk gown designed by her servant, Samira. Venice was notorious across Europe and the Ottoman for its outrageous costume balls, populated by women who wore the most daring and even scandalous of gowns. But no one had ever seen anything like this. There was no highly structured bodice, just embroidered silk that clung to Jutta’s body. Her full firm chest and narrow waist was presented as it was. There was no corset forcing her waist to narrow and her breasts to push up and out. Every man and woman could see that each curve was naturally hers. The back and necklines plunged. The long flowing skirt was split in the front, and her long Dutch skater legs peaked through with every stride. She wore her yellow hair, not up in an elaborate headdress as was the predominant fashion, but down and long, like a peasant. Most shocking of all, was her mask. It was not gold foil, it was not a colorful plaster, it was a leather grotesque that covered most of her face.
She was not a stranger to these people any longer. The striking Dutchwoman had made an impression over the last few weeks, making the rounds with most of the lords and ladies of Venice, spending hours at Court, exercising her fastly improving Italian, and flashing her crystal blue eyes and perfect smile when words failed her. She charmed the Doge, the Doge’s wife, and the Doge’s grandchildren. There were rumblings among some of the young counts. Surely, she would not marry the ugly dark Moor -- Il Mostro.
Her entrance, and her choice for her first dance partner, sent the message loudly and clearly, that she very much was attaching herself to the fearsome and hideous Count Nero. The Count, in the costume mask he normally wore to these events, clearly a model for Jutta’s, struck his usual presence. Taller than any man in the Republic, with massively broad shoulders and powerful legs, set off by the cut of his uniform, made every woman swoon -- if they could put the memory of his smashed face and head out of their mind. Together Jutta and Nero swirled and twirled around the ballroom enjoying the stares and the whispers.
At midnight, Count Nero strode to the landing of the grand staircase. The Doge joined him briefly, raising his hand to quiet the party-goers. He needn’t have bothered. The Count’s booming voice drew every eye and ear to him. He spoke of love, and beauty, and charm, and intelligence, and everyone in the room knew he was speaking of the beautiful girl from the North Sea. He beckoned Jutta with an outstretched arm and the tall beauty climbed the stairs. And with that, their betrothal was announced to the Republic. Some men whispered false laughs. Most looked at one another with mouths agape, betraying their jealousy of the Count’s wealth, might… and now his stunning wife to be.
At Jutta’s insistence, they were married secretly in a tiny chapel just the next week. A grand ceremony and celebration could wait. Jutta needed to begin her new life. And she needed the Count. That their confidant and mistress, the nun Maria, had been doing her best to excite and tease Jutta to the very edge, every day for a month, even adding the lovely, North African servant Fatima to their naughty escapades, no doubt contributed to Jutta’s haste.
The couple boarded the Count’s private brigantine -- the same ship he had offered to return her to Holland months prior -- for an impromptu honeymoon cruise. Oh, she was now so pleased that she had not taken up his offer and had instead stayed in Venice. She had found a new home, a life purpose, and most surprising of all, she had found love and passion for this beautiful beast of a man.
With favorable wind and smooth seas, they made good time getting out of the Venice lagoon and well across the Adriatic toward the islands of the Dalmatian coast that the Count knew and loved so well. It was after midnight when they finally moored and the light crew quieted for the night. Jutta waited nervously, apprehensively, excitedly, impatiently in the huge stateroom that took up the entire back quarter of the ship. Large windows allowed the sea air, and the moonscape, to fill the room. Jutta had put on and taken off a half dozen nightgowns as she waited. In the end, she wore nothing other than her own perfect form. She knelt upon the silk-covered feather bed, facing the door. Her heartbeat quickly and firmly. She felt her own wetness between her legs. The cool sea air, a welcome relief from stifling Venice, stiffened her nipples.
The Count entered their cabin clad in his uniform, with his elaborate corsair’s hat and leather bandana covering his deformed face, as usual. He chuckled at the sight of his beautiful new wife, waiting for him invitingly. “Maria is a saint of a different sort,” he thought to himself.
“Sei bellissima il mio amore,” he whispered as he tore at the loops, hoops, and scarves of his uniform. He had been thinking of this moment all day… indeed he had been thinking of it since he laid eyes on the gorgeous fair Jutta. When he, at last, freed himself of his pantalones his excitement was on full display.
Jutta had seen the Count naked before, from twenty feet above as he and Maria had pleasured one another in the courtyard below the library, but within an arm's reach, in the moonlight reflected off the sea, he was truly a sight to behold. Dark skin stretched over taut muscles and appeared to almost glisten in the blue light. And of course, there was his organ. His huge, scary organ, engorged and turgid, arching slightly in her direction and weeping at its bulbous tip. Maria had told her not to be afraid. It would stretch her at first, it would likely even hurt for a moment, but she assured Jutta that she would adjust, and experience a pleasure like no other.
The Count bent toward her but Jutta stopped him. “Togliere la maschera,” she said. The Count hesitated, suddenly self-conscious. Slowly he undid his elaborate leather wrap, revealing the grotesqueness of his battle-damaged face and head. Jutta reached up to him and cradled his face in her soft hands. She pulled him toward her and then placed gentle kisses on every scar, every smashed bone, every misshapen form. “Sei bello amore mio,” she whispered, echoing the Count’s pronouncement about her. A whispered laugh escaped the Count’s lips and with it went his self-consciousness.
Jutta’s excitement, already beyond her experience, grew as she ran her hands over the Count’s firm body. The flex of his buttocks against her palm, the feeling of his hard chest against the soft pillows of her own, the hardness of his thighs and arms as he wrapped himself around her. And, of course, his stallion cock, pressed between their writing bodies was like a giant, warm melanzana between them.
Jutta rallied her courage and slid down the Count’s massive body. She kissed and nuzzled the giant member, pushing the thick sleeve back to fully reveal the thick head. The Count smiled to himself, again thanking Maria for her generous tutoring to his amorous young wife. She would need more actual practice, he thought, as Jutta clumsily tongued the stream of fluid that ran along his bulb before attempting to take the head into her mouth. Jutta gagged almost immediately, and not wanting to spoil the moment, Nero pulled her back to him and immediately reversed his position, plunging his massive tongue against her sweet-smelling pussy.
Jutta had come to love the feel of first Maria’s and later Fatima’s tongue. But the Count’s was different … firmer, hungrier, and larger. Whether it was his technique, or his equipment, or simply that Jutta had been desperate to be with him for weeks, she quickly entered what Maria called an “amorous sneeze.” Her body convulsed and trembled with the pleasure of his giant flat tongue pressed against her engorged nub, and whereas Maria always stopped, the Count kept going until Jutta saw stars and she had to twist away from his powerful grasp.
Nero did not let his young beautiful wife rest for more than a few seconds. His massive hands pressed Jutta’s legs wide apart and back toward her shoulders, causing her to open her holes to him like a tulip in the sun. He arched his powerful dark body over her and placed the fat head of his black cock against her wet lips. He could not see Jutta’s face well in the partial darkness, but he could see enough to sense her fear, as well as her desire. He hesitated.
“Scopami,” she whispered. “Scopami come una puttana.”
The Count let out a chuckle, unsure if Jutta really meant and understood to say, “fuck me like a whore,” or if once again he was experiencing Maria’s handiwork. But he would comply, either way. He worked the fist-sized head against her opening. Between her long excited state and his artful cunnilingus, Jutta was quite wet and fairly relaxed, given the circumstances. He moved slowly, gently, and when he finally pierced his way through, Jutta shuddered with pleasure. There was no pain, but rather an incredible sense of fullness. The shameless aristocrat who had taken her virginity had nothing compared to her beautiful dark beast of a husband. With passionate patience, Nero worked his forearm length member all the way into his wife, until his massive ball sac rested against her perineum and back hole.
When Jutta nodded her encouragement, Nero began to move in earnest. Soon he was at an allegretto tempo. His great girth stretched Jutta to her apparent limit. Her lips clung to the thick cock as Nero withdrew, and collapsed in moistened pleasure as he thrust back in. Her fat clitoris grazed his firm veined flesh in both directions and she was soon “amorously sneezing” with increasing speed and intensity. The Count had denied Maria and his other courtesans' pleasure for at least a month, and so he too was soon on the brink. He fought off the urge at first, choosing to take in the beauty of his fair wife in her passionate delight, but at last, he could take no more.
He withdrew his long shaft with a gasp from Jutta and turned her onto her belly. He then pulled her to her hands and knees and re-entered her with a mutual grunt. “ ‘Scoparti come una puttana,’ you said?” asked the Count.
“Si, si, come una puttana,” his teasing wife teasingly replied between moans.
Nero grasped his wife’s slender waist as he took in the spectacular view of her moonlit long blond hair running along her back and shoulders, and the firm round globes of her alabaster buttocks as they bounced against his dark groin. The sight of his black hands against her pale skin excited him all the more and he now moved at pace, taking his pleasure, to borrow Jutta’s phrase, as he would with a whore.
Smack, smack, smack, his balls slapped against Jutta’s lips and swollen button, and she was once again overtaken by tremorous contractions. The extra grip on his cock was all Nero needed to trip his last bit of control, and he shot his warm seed deep into his wife’s womb. They lay together, sweating, breathless, whispering statements of love to one another.
“Ti Amo … Hakim,” Jutta whispered, using his familiar Arabic name for the first time. “We are going to do great things together,” she said, dragging her fingers across his muscular chest as she lay in the crook of his arm. The Count nodded in agreement. “And you will also fuck me like a whore,” Jutta added with a laugh and Nero nodded vigorously.
Epilogue
Jutta enjoyed the early small tremors of an orgasm as the lovely, dark Fatima lapped at her blonde pussy. Jutta held Fatima’s head still and angled her mons at a preferred angle as she took in the scene before her.
At the foot of their giant marital bed, her dear husband, Count Nero, was fucking their friend and confidant, the nun Maria with full, steady thrusts in and out of her ass. Jutta herself was still becoming accustomed to sodomy, but it seemed to be Maria’s favorite act of all. Her big brown eyes rolled back in their sockets and her full breasts rocked in counter-movement to Nero’s thrusts. She moaned deeply with each full entry, sighed with each withdrawal, and squealed with every slap of the Count’s large hand against the smooth olive skin of her backside.
“Grazie, grazie, grazie,” Maria moaned in time when the Count changed to a faster pace, his fists now full of winds of her chestnut hair. It would not be long for either one of them, Jutta knew.
Meanwhile, on the velvet chaise lounge across the room, her mature guide to Venetian society, the former courtesan, Veronica, was in the throes of her own passion. Jutta had recruited, with the Count’s blessing, a young member of his personal guard, Pietro, to “entertain” their dear friend. Maria, Jutta, Fatima, and even the Count had learned more from the former courtesan in the techniques of pleasure than they ever would have come to know in a lifetime without her. Veronica may have been too old to still attract the attention and monetary adoration of the young lords of the court, but she was still quite beautiful in her way, and she certainly still knew how to use her wiles for pleasuring and being pleasured. The young guard was groaning in absolute delight as Vernonica bounced on top of his modest dick, digging her nails into his chest and choking his neck to add just the right level of rough spice to their fucking. She smiled as she caught Jutta’s eye, and in an instant conveyed gratitude and affection and lust.
All except poor Fatima groaned toward a concerted orgasmic finish. Maria added a hand to the Count’s pounding of her ass as she collapsed her chest onto the soft satin sheets of Jutta’s bed and writhed in ecstasy, “Mi Dios, mi Dios, e cosi grande!” That sealed it for Nero, who groaned as if in pain as he shot one of his epic loads deep into the nun’s bowels. Veronica was next, skillfully pounding herself to happy completion before hopping off to take the young guard’s wet prick into her learned mouth. Pietro grunted and sighed as Veronica put on a show of enjoying his youthful cum. And that left just Jutta, who had edged herself along with Fatima’s flicking tongue as she took in in the sensual theatre of the room. She finally allowed the contractions to overtake her and arched off the bed as she held Fatima’s head firmly in place by the hair.
Jutta pulled Fatima to her and gently stroked her, and watched with loving admiration as the Count disentangled himself from Maria and walked to the vanity basin, his horse cock swaying with each step. Jutta slipped from Fatima’s embrace and followed her husband. She took the sponge from his huge hands and tenderly washed his semi-flaccid member and balls while she kissed the hideous face that she had come to love so much.
“We dine with the Doge tonight,” she said as Nero nodded. “Hakim … I believe he will do exactly as we ask… he has so much respect for you.”
Nero laughed and kissed his lovely young wife. “I think he will do exactly as you ask… because he adores you."
“Well, maybe that, too. But, now,” Jutta said, sensing Nero’s cock coming back to life as she rinsed the soap from his slick flesh, “I think we should put on a show for our friends, don’t you think?”
“Yes, my beautiful whore, I think we should.”
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