Memoirs Of A Young Victorian Lady - Volume IIIChapter 8: Harry And AnneMarie Arrive free porn video
The next day, Monday, Harry and AnneMarie were to arrive. They were traveling by way of the private coach that Harry had obtained, if but as a loan from another rich friend, and we were to meet them at the train station in Saratoga Springs shortly after lunch. I was on the verge of asking David and Mary if they wanted to come and see it as well, but I stopped short when I realized they had other plans in mind. With their daughters off exploring, and little David sleeping, Mary giggled at her husband and began running a finger along the back of his hand. He smiled, and she excused herself, heading upstairs. David finished his coffee, then announced he would need to check on Mary, and scurried off after his wife. This truly was to be a holiday honeymoon for the amorous pair, so I smiled at James and invited him into his office.
“James, undo your pants, take out your cock, and fuck me!” I ordered. I bent over his desk and pulled my dress to my waist, then spread my legs wide.
I looked over my shoulder to watch James smile and follow my orders, undoing his trousers and pushing them low enough so that his massive cock sprang into view. Stepping up behind me, he inserted the end into my dripping cunny and pushed inwards with an exquisite slowness. “Delighted, my dear, but what has gotten into you?” he asked.
“Oh James, promise me that when we have been married as long as Mary and David, you will still want to chase me upstairs and fuck me? Please! Promise me?” I pushed back at the cock fucking me, wanting desperately for it to simply keep pushing into me.
James chuckled and undid the buttons down the back of my dress. He pushed it down, then reached around and cupped my boobies, to caress and fondle me as he leaned over me, his hips churning as he fucked me harder. “I promise!” he gasped out, and I moaned as I spent beneath him. He was able to hold out until my second spending, then I felt the wonderful eruption that filled my grasping cunny with his seed. He kissed and nibbled my ears as we recovered, then pulled away and we dressed. “I shall always be chasing you upstairs, darling, or downstairs, or outside, or in the barn, or anywhere you want!”
I hugged him, then we freshened our demeanors and went out. James had a couple of the hands rig a team of geldings to a very large, but very fine, carriage, one that would hold several people and their luggage, while I went inside and found Jenny and Bessie. They had eagerly volunteered to travel with James and I upon our honeymoon, to cook and wait upon us, and of course, join us in our entertainments. They excitedly came out and clambered aboard the carriage, intent on seeing their temporary home, considering this the beginning of a grand adventure. Well, I saw it as the same, even more so when I thought of this as the beginning of an even grander adventure, that being my marriage to James.
James drove as the girls and I talked about the coming trip, though we really had no idea what to expect when we arrived at the station. Things were even more confusing when we arrived and saw no sight of Harry or AnneMarie, or of a private train, or indeed of any train. The next train from New York was not due until much later that evening. A train was pulling in, but from the North, an express run from Montreal. We idly watched it pull in, then were astonished when a window dropped on one of the last cars, and Harry leaned forth to grin madly and wave his arms. We waved back and rushed over to where he was clambering down to the platform.
“Harry, where in the world have you been?” I asked.
“I sent a telegram saying we would be in by one! We’re not late, are we?” he replied. He kissed my cheek and embraced James, and I took quick stock of him. Harry Kendrickson was still the boisterous scalawag who had tried to court me a year prior, a charming gentleman a few inches short of James, now about twenty and nine, of an average build, clean-shaven and with thick and curly hair, brown eyes, and a grin permanently affixed to his face. I spotted AnneMarie Tormalino at the top of the stairs, and she looked much as before. She was a few years younger than Harry and was a beautiful statuesque woman almost half again as large as I. However, she was tall and large-boned, with a stunning bosom and womanly hips, and was in no manner heavyset or unattractive. She had very dark hair and was darkly complected, as one could expect from someone of Italian extraction, and she had a very pleasant and slightly exotic Mediterranean appearance.
“No, but where did you come from?” responded James. “This train came in from the wrong direction!”
“Ah!” said Harry, as he ushered us inside. “I said that we were going to give it a test run, well, we ran her to Boston, and then Quebec, and then Montreal.” He gave James and I an elaborate wink. “It is really the most amazing ride, if you catch my drift.”
I blushed at this, then rushed to AnneMarie, to hug and embrace my friend. It was only then that I took a look around me, to see what Jenny and Bessie were oohing and aahing about. This carriage was a most elaborate and palatial accommodation. We were standing in an open parlor, much like one would find in any parlor car, but with fittings of brass and upholstery in a sumptuous leather and a deep, plush velvet. Harry led us onwards gleefully, showing us several bedrooms, small but very nice, a galley kitchen, a large water closet, and a dining room. Additionally, a second carriage was pulled behind, filled with tanks for water and fuel oil, storage compartments, and a heating system for water and air
We were also introduced to Mister Tommy Dornwood, who came with the coach. He was a mechanic of sorts, the coach’s engineer and cook, who handled all aspects of operation of the car as well as any details involved in arranging our conveyance from city to city. None of us had expected an interloper, though. Harry whispered to James and me that Mr. Dornwood was a fairly accommodating chap who had left him and AnneMarie alone most of the time.
We marveled at the sights, but then something about AnneMarie’s look gave me pause, and I allowed her to pull me into what was the master bedroom and close the door behind us. “AnneMarie, this is amazing! How was the trip?” I ran my fingers across the covers of the bed; it was not as large as ours at home but would do very nicely indeed. Pushing down on the mattress several times, I asked, “How was the ride?”
AnneMarie surprised me with her response. Rather than smile and giggle at the lewdness of my comment, she blanched and practically turned a pale shade of green, a look of horror on her face.
“My God, AnneMarie, what is it?” I cried, taking her hands in mine. “What is the matter? I was only joking!”
AnneMarie settled herself with a look of sheer willpower, then said, “I am afraid I have been sick for a few days.”
“Yes?” I replied wishing her to continue.
“Every morning now for almost a week, sick, you understand?”
I did not understand, then I suddenly did, and thunderstruck, I glanced down at her stomach, then back to her eyes. “Really? And your last courses, when were they?” I tried to keep my voice low and conversational, without allowing the concern I felt showing.
“Almost six weeks ago. I seem to be late,” she answered quietly.
“I do not think you are late, AnneMarie.”
“I do not think so either,” she said, practically whispering.
“What did Harry say when you told him?” I asked.
She began to cry quietly. “I haven’t told him yet.”
“Why in heavens not?”
AnneMarie gave me a most pitiful look. “What if something happens? What if he changes his mind? What if he won’t marry me? What if...” She continued in this vein for several minutes as I pulled her to me and soothed her.
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