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Madame Brunet (LingeringDesire & CharmSnake)

He drove into her harder at her urging, crashing into her mons, punctuating each stroke with a staccato grunt. Slowly the back of her head inched its way towards the edge of the blanket with each heavy impact and soon was forced into the soft wild grass. The fire popped and crackled and its heat was soon surpassed by that of the touch of her skin. André slipped a palm in small of her back and with the other firmly on ground, pushed off to raise himself to his knees. There he held her in his lap and leaned back just enough onto his heels to impale her. Gripping her little body firmly about her ribcage, he lifted her up and dropped her down his slick shaft. Jacquelyn was so small in his hands that she was quite easy for him to manipulate. Increasing the pace continued to piston her up and down with a shuddering grunt each time that she landed.
 
Harder he went, her soft voice lifting in pleasure as her husband ground his dick inside her tight, quivering channel. "Yes, yes!" She breathed out, in encouragement. Jacquelyn felt him shift, taking her with him as he sat back on his heels. Using her weight like this allowed him deeply and he easily repeated the action. Her fingers gripped his shoulders as she felt him slide her up and down his length. She came, her nectar spilling around his length as she cried out in the air.
 
"Yes, yes!"

Each interjection of her voice rose in pitch until it reached a trembling crescendo accompanied by a brief cascade upon his organs. The next few strokes slowed until he rested her in his lap. Then he hastily tugged at and lifted her dress enough to expose her chest to the night, letting the firelight find its way between their entangled limbs to reveal the profile of the curve of her modest right breast and its small hard nipple. Bending his neck down, his tongue found it and with lips surrounding, brazenly he suckled as the dress fell across his nose and re-covered her left. Bracing her by her narrow hips, he rolled his pelvis, pressing her down upon himself. A subtle clenching and unclenching of his buttocks rhythmically attempted to work their union at her clitoris.

Releasing her tit from his mouth, the gathering of her dress caught on the erect nub as it tried to fall. André braced an arm around her back and laid her down on the blanket once more. His mouth covered hers in a half-drunken tongue wavering kiss as he raised his hips and plunged deep into her with a grunt. He lifted again, adjusting his stance and placing a knee haphazardly in the wet spot of her previous ejaculation, then plunged once more.
 
Her fingers clenched on his back and she whimpered as his lips circled her erect nipple. She was so turned on by his actions that she felt heat swelling between them as her pussy throbbed. "Andre, " we whispered as he released her wet nipple to the night sky. The cool breeze drug across it before he laid her back.

Dark eyes gazed upon his face as he lowered her again. She was aching, her clit erect and sensitive due to his actions. As he speared her, she lifted to have him deeper. Her lips found his and she cried out as he kissed her. Everything went blurry after that, happy tears clogging her vision as she came hard, again.
 
His wife tilted her hips upward to take his long deliberate strokes, so long that the back wedge of his glans barely clung to her labia. It was only a matter of time before he slipped right out of her. However, she being so pliant, his next stab had no trouble slipping into the entrance even when slightly off target.

His large hand slid beneath both of her tiny buttocks to prop her up as he plunged in deep and ground against her. Then he pulled out again allowed her burbling juices to flow once more as she yelped in cathatric pleasure. Plunging in again with a grunt, he began to twitch, then after a series of quick thrusts he pumped his warm seed, jamming the thick goo against her cervix.

The spasms of his crest complete, his body relaxed upon hers, his hand still under her bony little bum. Their limbs lay entwined on the blanket splotched by her climaxes, encrimsoned by the dull flickering glow of the flames.
 
She felt him cum deep inside her, his throaty groans were music to her ears. The last few thrusts were quick and satisfying. Even when he placed his weight on her fully, his warm hands still cupping her rump. Soft, small fingers caressed his back.

Her breaths evened out as they relaxed together. "I am so overjoyed to be your wife, Andre." She whispered, placing her lips against his sweaty chest gently. Silently, she prayed that his seed would take and soon they would have a child together. If not, she feared he would rid himself of her and she would go back to the church and then to that awful man.

Her blue eyes drooped with sleep, tired from their lovemaking and full from dinner. And fully satisfied because of both.
 
Quietly, they lie there, composing their breath together as the fire crackled. The embers were cooling noticeably and the fire was ready for some restoking. André wriggled slightly to shift his weight from her tiny body, putting his knee into something damp. The wet splotches beneath them had chilled in the night air causing him to wince and adjust his stance further.

There was a crack, then a pop, then another crack. Above, wispy clouds drifted slowly across the wild smearing of stars. There was another loud pop, then a crackle, followed by a snap and another crackle. At the last sound André perked up, rising to his elbows and knees, his ears keen to hear more. It hadn't come from the fire, it had come from the woods a few yards away. Confirming his suspicions, he spotted a lantern glow flickering between the trunks and branches. Someone was coming.

"Up," he whispered to his wife as he rolled off, yanked up his pants and began to relace them.

"Brunet? Brunet?" a voice whispered from the dark as the lantern emerged from the wood and approached along the narrow footpath.

"Pepin," Brunet responded sharply and quietly. Brunet's business partner - or soon to be former business partner if he wasn't already - was dropping in unannounced to pay a visit. Pepin revealed himself next to the dwindling orange flames, a man very much in appearance like Tremblay, with a dark scraggly beard and a couple of missing teeth. His face was flatter and rounder and his physique was stouter and more pudgy, wrapped in laced up bush leathers. He carried a burdened pack on his back with a couple of animal pelts hanging from it. "What do you want?" Brunet asked him coldly.

"Brunet," the stout trapper called again in a tone more relaxed before stopping short at the sight of the golden blonde petite Jacquelyn, unable to hide the covetous glint in his eye. As André had just finished hastily putting himself back together, it was obvious what had just transpired on the blanket. "Ahh, pardon Brunet," he grinned.
 
Jacquelyn kissed the soft skin along her husbands neck as she calmed herself beneath him. He oved from her, gently so as not to hurt her. But, she didn't mind his weight and rather enjoyed it. However, his trapper ears heard something she didn't and he was moving into action, butoning and tucking. She sat up nodding as he spoke, straightening her dress and and righting her skirts.

She heard a voice and sprang up and more into action behind her husband as she gathered their blanket, her hair a disheveled mess that she tried to smooth before she was spotted. But, her efforts were futile and she knew the man knew what went on just moments before. How long had he been heading their way? Had he heard and this was simply a ruse to see what the noise was or to try and catch them in the act?

Swallowing hard, she stayed behind her husband. Smoothing her hair and skirts as they exchanged looks. Her eyes flit over Andre, not knowing who this man was. "I... I will ready our dwelling for bed." she stated softly and kissed his cheek. Spinning, she showed of the multiple wet spots on the skirt of her dress, of course it wasn't on purpose.
 
"Pepin," Brunet grunted coldly. He watched Pepin's eyes follow Jacquelyn trailing back to the cabin. "What do you want?" he asked glaring at his fellow trapper.

"André," Pepin snapped his attention away from Madame Brunet's form as it disappeared into the darkness. "It's the spring runoff. The beavers are damming the creeks."

"I have much to do here," André dismissed as he rose to his feet.

"Yes, I see," Pepin winked.

"Watch your mouth," Brunet warned as the cabin door clacked shut.

"André, how long have we been friends?" Pepin petitioned for informality.

"She is my wife. If you are my friend or not, you keep your eyes to yourself."

I apologize André. Can we talk?"

"About what?"

"About our business," Pepin insisted incredulously, silhouetted by the waning flames.

"I've told you. I'm getting out of that business."

"But you are not out yet. Please, invite me in and we can talk."

"All right, Brunet relented with a heavy sigh. "Entrez." He led him back into the cabin to sit at the table.
 
Jacquelyn lit the lantern inside their dwelling and began washing up for the night, assuming that Andre would finish their conversation and then be in to retire for the night. Slowly, she undressed and tossed her spotted dress to the wash basket so that she could clean it the next day. The heated water on the back burner of their stove was tipped into a bucket with cooler water, to take it from hot to warm. She pinned her hair up , soft locks to be untangled afterwards. A cake of homemade soap wrapped in a rag was dipped and then scrubbed over her soft body.

She didn't bother covering as the door opened, in fact she wished her husband would help her. Her small frame was perfectly on display for the stranger as she rinsed the suds off with a wet rag. It wasn't until she turned to give him a seductive smile, that she realized her mistake. Eyes wide, pink lips parted before an ungodly blood curdling scream left her mouth.

Screaming, wet and very nude, Jacquelyn, scrambled to pull the sheets over her body. "Obtenir hors!" (Get out!) she yelled, trembling with fear. Where was Andre?
 
Brunet held the door open and followed Pepin inside. Jacquelyn's scream startled both men. André surveyed the scene. When he saw her scramble for modesty he realized that there was no danger, but only her embarrassment. The lantern light glistened from the ridges of her wet flesh, her thin arms, her ribcage, the slight curve of her modest chest, her nipples erect from either the cool air or her fright. Why was she indecent at such a moment?

Pepin stood still, shock on his face and excitement on his breath. André flexed his jaw and took him by the arm.

"Out! Out!" he ushered him gruffly into the night and pulled the door shut behind them.

"But André," he protested. "We need to talk."

"Another time," Brunet dismissed him.

"But I've come all this way!"

"You've come all this way from the whorehouse."

"André!"

"Allez!"

"But the fur season!"

"All the more for you," said Brunet. "Come see me in the fall." He started down the footpath, urging Pepin back the way that he had come. Begrudgingly the woodsman followed, occasionally glancing back at the warm cabin with the pretty little naked lady inside. Once they passed the dimming fire pit Brunet saw him off.

"Don't be crazy, André!" Pepin called as he reached the edge of the trees. "I'll be back in a few days. We will head out with our lines and make a fortune!" Then his lamp flickered yellow as he relit it and the little flame made its way through the black trees and disappeared. The fortune that Pepin spoke of was the same one that they made every spring only to blow it on booze and loose women. Every year was supposed to be different but never was.

André returned to the cabin and latched the door behind him. He stood still and eyed his wife with displeasure. Perhaps at another moment he would have been quite upset with her but his being rather drunk and his recent orgasm had taken the edge from his anger. Besides, he was a bit relieved to not have to speak with his associate, with whom he was even more angry with, not only for dropping in at such a time but for his not-so-subtle coveting of his wife.

"Why would you choose to bathe while a guest is visiting?" he asked her coldly.
 
What ensued was a lot of shouting and pushing. Jacquelyn closed her eyes, the anger in her husbands eyes made her heart thump wildly in her chest. Her brain couldn't wrap around the fact that he was in fact, angry at her. Why?

She finished up after he shouted and made the man leave, by force. It was quick work, then drying off and pulling on a fresh nightgown before slipping into bed. It was then that the door opened again and Andre stepped inside their tiny home. His gaze was burning. She swallowed hard, blue eyes meeting his. A battle of soft blue to hard brown, almost black.

His question caught her off guard. She was innocent of thought and of action. "I was cleaning up for bed, I thought the conversation could be had without me and I knew you were tired... we both were. I planned on being cleaned up and in bed by the time you returned to me. I never once thought that . that man would enter our house."

She shook her head, tears welling in them now dripped down her face. "I am only for you, I want no other and I thought nothing of getting ready for bed while you spoke to him outside." She cleaned up for him, wanting him again, if he was willing. Of course, that was probably not going to happen because of that last incident. "I... I am so very sorry... I never meant for that to happen."

Jacquelyn was being honest, she wanted Andre, and only Andre. The eyes of that other man, any man, made her nervous. but under the gaze of her husband, she blossomed. Rising up, she moved to him. "Come, let me wash you for bed."
 
André's concern had not the least bit to do with her faithfulness as he had no doubt of her (or all but the most desperate of women's for that matter) complete disinterest in Pepin. It was merely that he had assumed his wife to be cultured, certainly with her upper-crust upbringing, and to know better. Her tearful apology may have been overdramatic, but he did find sincerity in it. In the week that he had known her he was becoming rather certain that Jacquelyn was incapable of guile, although he would not cease his observations.

When she offered to wash him, he relented with a nod. His shoulders slumped and he realized just how much tension Pepin's visit had caused. Before the trapper had arrived, André had been so relaxed. A foot massage and an orgasm had an obvious effect, but Pepin had undone some of that in such brief amount of time. The day was done. He had to keep himself unwound. André stepped towards his wife at the basin.
 
Jacquelyn watched him nod, relenting to a wash by her hand. All was not lost, she thought as she added fresh warm water to the little basin in preparation for her husband’s washing up. Silently she helped him undress and sit on the bed, while she stood and began washing him gently. Her nightgown covered body swayed before him as she worked, all in silence. Uncertain about the mood now, it had all been beautiful outside and now with one mistake and a visit and it had been ruined.

“I thought you heard me say I would prepare for bed, I assumed he would be sent off shortly so we could continue our… activities inside. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen, my love.” She said softly as she washed his shoulders and chest, her soapy rag covered hand stroking downwards over his stomach. She gestured for him to stand as she continued with her washing. “Tonight was most splendid, thank you Andre.”
 
She was taking control and there was a certain uneasiness within him concerning that, yet her caring strokes did give him the ease that he sought and therefore quelled any misgivings. Urging him to his feet, she pulled his leggings down, then she sat him back down upon the edge of the bed to remove them from his ankles.

"Enough talk," he said simply to dismiss the matter as his wife wrung the water from the rag with her small but diligent hands and continued to swab his body down. André wanted to lie back but resisted the urge as Jacquelyn's aura seemed to convey that she was not quite done with her work. Her soft breath picked up its rhythm and her gown waved shapelessly from her stick figure with her movements. As the air licked the damp from his chest, his back was still untouched and dry, and she was determined to finish his front, working down his abdomen with the soppy rag. His dick began to unravel itself from the foreskin and straighten, cracking the encrusting of their recent copulation by the fire.
 
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