Part III – The Marquess

By The Jobber King (thejobberking@yahoo.com)

Once it was just the Marquess and I in the windowless practice room, the
Marquess leaned against the ropes and gave me the once over.

"Troy, you know the meaning of the word, discrete, do you not?" the Marquess
asked.

"Yes, Ma'am, I do."

"And your business here, it requires discretion."

"Oh, absolutely, Ma'am." I felt like a doll, the kind you pull the string in
the back and it says a couple of stock phrases.

The Marquess then gives me an even more penetrating look. I'm not liking where
this could be going, but I really have no choice. Then, without a word, she
begins to unbutton her blouse.

"Troy, do you know what a jobber is?" the Marquess asks.

"Of course, Ma'am" I respond, locked into my stock phrases.

"Do you think there is anything wrong with being a jobber?"

"Certainly not. It's a part of wrestling." For some reason I departed from my
toolkit of stock answers.

"Ma'am, Troy." the Marquess said sternly, "You forgot to say Ma'am."

"Yes, Ma'am." My heat was beating through my chest now. I forgot part of the
sotck answer!!

"Do you think there's anything wrong with wanting to be, dare I say desiring to
be, a jobber?" the Marquess asked as she continued to disrobe casually, draping
her pants and blouse over the top rope.

"Of course not, Ma'am." Whew . . got that one right.

"Why not?" the Marquess asks and begins to circle me in her fine undergarments,
I feel like she is looking to devour me. I look straight ahead, and only see
her when she passes directly in front of me.

Crap!! I go for broke and give an honest answer. "Two reasons, Ma'am. First,
the jobber is of service because he aids the other wrestler. Second, because
the jobber wants to display himself, in submission, to the audience. To show
how much punishment he can take before submitting, so as to prove his worth.
Ma'am." I exhale, feeling like I escaped a tricky situation.

"Troy, you say "him" and "himself." Certainly you're not the type to think only
men can perform certain roles?" The Marquess has reduced her circumfrence. She
is now inches from me.

"Of course, Ma'am." I feel like the prey in one of those nature films that
follows a jungle cat on a hunt. But here the predator smells like vanilla and I
can't help but notice her strikingly vibrant bright blue eyes. She reaches back
and unpins her dark brown hair, and it naturally falls to several inches below
her shoulders with a slight curl that was restrained in her bun.

"Good. It's nice to hear you've got an open mind." the Marquess says. "Do you
think that Miranda just jobbed to you?"

"Yes, Ma'am. She did."

"Troy, can you help me with this, the catch is somewhat tricky." The Marquess
says, changing the subject as she turns her back to me.

My hands fumble, but I manage to unlatch her bra. I take a step back, but the
Marquess continues, "Please, Troy, finish what you've started." as if asking me
to close the door after she's gone into a car. I gently pull down her shoulder
straps from behind, and come around to her front to carefully pull her bra off
as she places her arms in front of her. Her breasts are completely natural, a
large B or a small C cup. As you would expect for a woman of her age, they have
a natural droop but not as much as the average woman who does not have her
overall high fitness level. Her nipples are small, brown and most evidently
erect.

She clears her throat, and that is the only indication that I should continue.

I take off her underwear slowly, and the pace is not my choice. She has her
legs slightly parted, so I have to pull each section down an inch or so as I
move around her body like tailor fitting a suit. She is wearing grandma-style
underwear made from some sort of cottony/silken fabric I haven't seen or felt
before. Her ass is quite firm and I notice that her thighs have obviously
benefitted from strenuous exercise. As I move around to her front, I am
confronted with a large tuft of pubic hair, and then a clear and unmistakable
whiff of the tangy, sweet scent that only women can produce. I move around to
her back and the Marquess helps me out a bit by closing her legs slightly. But
I take my time, realizing that she just doesn't want me to just to rip off her
underwear.

Now the moment of truth as I am back to the front, on my knees before her. My
face is right at crotch level. And it is magnificent sight. Although her pubes
are unmanicured at the top, she is carefully shaved to expose her bare mons.
Her pussy lips are prominent and glistening. Instead of the standard landing
strip, she allowed herself to go natural while shaving herself (or, perhaps,
having herself shaved) clean below. As I slowly pull her underwear down past
her knees, I notice that a thick, but discrete, cotton pad had been sewn into
the crotch panel. It was now a bit heavier with her juices.

"Your exhibition has pleased me, Troy." the Marquess says, no doubt realizing
that I've been staring at her soaked crotch pad. "It is good to see that our
training methods have taught you how to properly submit a woman. Let us see how
you fare against a more accomplished opponent."

The Marquess and I circle, and her stance allows no doubt but that she is a
skilled wrestler. We both know that I dare not make the first move, but even
so, she catches me by surprise with the speed and ferocity of her attack. In an
instant, I'm up against the ropes and she nails me with two hard forearms to the
chest. I almost lose my breath she hits me so hard. I see her raise her arm
for another blow, manage to cleanly block it, and duck under her arm to get
behind her. Turning to face her before she can twist around, I grab her around
the waist, and pull her backwards and over me. Her back hits the mat hard, and
I have her pinned for just a moment before she kicks out. We both roll away and
are circling again.

She gives me a nod, a barely perceptible one. We lock up cleanly, and I'm not
used to wrestling such a tall opponent. The Marquess manages to get me off
balance and pulls me forward so I'm caught in a front headlock against her hip.
She works my neck pretty good before I can break the hold. She's got really
strong hands, but I manage to pull them apart and even keep a hold of her wrist
as I spin out.

I have her! It's a solid armbar and the Marquess is bent over holding her
shoulder. I give her arm a bit of a twist, nothing too crazy, and the Marquess
winces as she sucks in some air through her teeth. I give her another twist,
and decide to change the pace and lean back, to sling her against the ropes. I
send her flying, but the Marquess manages not only to remain on her feet, but to
turn around so that her back hits the ropes. She keeps herself from bouncing
off by grabbing onto the ropes with both hands. I'm right behind her with my
right forearm ready to bring down onto her chest. I just avoid her raised right
knee as my forearm lands home against her.

Spittle flies from her mouth, and she's open for a second shot. I give it to
her and she sags a little against the ropes. The Marquess is by no means out of
it, not by a long shot, and catches me with a perfectly legal straight arm push
with the heel of her right hand nailing me on the jaw. I didn't see it coming,
and have to take a few steps back to collect myself. This gives her plenty of
time to get off the ropes.

We circle, and the Marquess tries a take down. She seems alot slower than just
a few moments before, and I do the standard defense. Throwing my legs out
behind me, I wind up on top of her and manage to secure a headlock. My face is
pressed against her upper back and her sweat is wonderfully sweet. I crank her
head a bit, and the Marquess gives out a few short, delightfully low, moans.
We're both breathing hard, and I'm happy to get a few moments of rest while in
the top position.

In my mind, I review the match so far to think of my next move and a disturbing
thought dawns on me. Is the Marquess just toying with me? There's no question
that she's much more skilled than me, but in each exchange I've managed to turn
the tables by executing a very difficult move. If I had gotten one off during a
League match, that would be considered good. So far, I'd managed a couple.
True, she had fought back nobly each time, but that just didn't square with my
getting the upper hand again. This went through my mind in a flash, and quickly
turned my thoughts to my next move.

The Marquess had her own ideas, and managed to push forward underneath me,
letting me keep on the headlock and she loosely held me around my hips. I was
getting forced up higher on her back, and I split my legs out wide to steady my
base. She kept on pushing forward into me, and I was losing the headlock. I
released it and got a grip around her belly, but as I did so she turned to her
side so that we were now on our sides, my face next to her ass and the back of
her head before my crotch. She then started to work on my grip, freed herself
and then held my arms out in front of her, but my right arm was pretty much
trapped under her side. I struggled to get away, but she had a firm grip.

I hadn't wrestled anyone this technically proficient, and the Marquess showed
that I was outclassed in more ways than just by birth. She yanked my hands
forward, and again showing a burst of quickness, turned into me so we were
facing one another on our sides, still in the North-South position. The
Marquess pushed me to my back, with a knee to my belly. She slipped on top of
me, quickly getting ahold of my forearms and holding them tight against the mat.
The next instant, I felt her thighs around my head!

Immediately, I thought she was going for a facesit. And probably a very rough
one at that, to obtain some feminine or sisterhood payback for what I did to
Miranda. That's what the Marquess must have told Miranda as she left the ring!
Why else would Miranda have nodded and thanked the Marquess so profusely, even
as she held her nose in a bloody towel?

So I was desperate, and desperate men (or teens, for that matter) do desparate
things. Somehow yanking both hands free, I grabbed the Marquess' firm, yet very
full, ass cheeks. I spread her as wide as I could, my fingers making
idententations into her flesh. I issued a hard Oil Check with my right
forefinger. The Marquess gasped. I got her right on the rosebud of her
asshole! A perfectly legal move to defend against a facesit. She doesn't
release the headscissors, and guessing when the required ten seconds have passed
(but maybe cutting a bit short, to be honest), I give it to her again. She
breathes in sharply, but her legs don't budge!!! I can tell her ankles are
locked behind me, and reaching back to try to get her to release won't work.

I move my grip closer to her asshole, and really get her in a wide spread. Even
during the required lapse before I can issue another Oil Check, I yank her ass
cheeks apart as hard as I can. The Marquess gives a little whimper. I give her
two more hard shots with my right forefinger, aiming for the same spot each time
as best I can, given that I can't see the target. The Marquess issues a
plaintive whelp, and while her thighs tremble a bit at the moment of impact, she
immediately summons the will to squeeze me a bit tighter afer each of my most
rude -- but again, I must emphasize -- legal attacks.

Of course, the Marquess had a simple escape move if she wanted to take it, but I
figured that it was beneath her station. She was holding her chest and head up
just slightly over me, using her hands on the mat to prop herself up. This
meant that her mouth was only an inch or so, if that, from my impossibly erect
and trembling cock. Every time she moaned or even breathed, I felt it against
against the head of my cock. It was like she was breathing against a very, and
I mean very, sensitive microphone.

Since I was giving her a multiple shot Oil Check, she would have been well
within her rights to simply take my cock into her mouth and force me to jizz.
We were playing by pro rules now, and it wouldn't have been a DQ or anything
like that. But it would have turned the tables such that she wouldn't have to
take any more Oil Checks. But like I said, I thought it was beneath her. But
since I was limited to five shots, maybe she just wanted to show that she could
take it without putting forth a complete defense?

I gave it my all for my fifth and last shot. Hard, fast and firm, catching her
right on the button to judge by her response. But it wasn't enough to budge
her. I was at her mercy, and I had this vision of my face bloodied and my nose
broken.

The Marquess, however, had other ways of punishing me, and they didn't involve
placing her ass on my face. She began to tighten her scissors, my face squeezed
between her straining hamstrings and quads. I put both hands on the backs of
her thighs, but that didn't do anything at all. The Marquess' power was
incredible. The pressure was just too much to bear and I raised my right hand
to tap out on her ass.

Then the Marquess relaxed the scissors. I was lightheaded, and felt like I was
floating, even though I knew I was lying hard against the mat. My nose felt
like it was settling back onto my face, having been almost squeezed off from the
pressure. The Marquess took her time to prepare herself for her next attack,
both of us breathing hard. The Marquess tightened, and the pain was incredible.
My forehead and my face around my nose and the upper part of my mouth felt like
it was being pushed off my face from within, or from the sides. I tried to yell
out, but couldn't. Again, I held out for as long as possible, and once I lifted
up my hand to submit, she released the pressure.

I'm not stupid, and even in my addled state, I realized that the Marquess was
waiting for me to shift my hand from her thighs to tap before releasing the
pressure. Even though I knew she was toying with me, I was resolved to show her
that I could take it. Of course, her pussy was well within reach, and I could
have gone for some kind of "incidental contact" pseudo foul. But perhaps her
nobility was rubbing off on me (pun intended), but that would be a cheap way to
escape.

I don't know how many times she attacked me, taking me to the breaking point
before taming the power, the raw power, of her scissors. It could have been two
times, it could have been ten. I couldn't keep track. The Marquess was not
only a politically powerful woman, but a physically powerful woman. Simply put,
the Marquess knew how to wield power.

I felt, but didn't see, the Marquess finally roll off of me. The ring was
spinning all around me, and I made an ill-advised attempt to sit up. I almost
dry heaved right there, such was my nausea brought on by dizziness. I was
incapacitated with my back on the mat. I was at the Marquess' mercy. I could
hear her breathing hard near me. Several minutes seemed to go past, but again,
can't be sure. I just wanted to the unbearable pounding in my head to subside,
which it did a bit.

Then I felt her yank me up into a seated position by grabbing my wrists, and
holding my arms above my head, walked around me slowly before settling into a
seated position behind me. I tried to twist out, feebly I'm sure given my
condition, but she held me firmly in a Seated Chicken Wing as she snaked each
leg around mine to Grapevine me. It was like she was dissecting me as she
pulled one leg at a time into a full spread position. Then she switched to a
Full Nelson and leaned into me. My balls pressed against the mat. Believe it
or not, my erection had somehow held firm throughout this treatment. It then
dawned on me how she was going to put me away.

The Flying Nut Buster!!! In an instant, she yanked me backwards so that her
back was against the mat and I was looking directly up at the ceiling. She
cranked her legs even harder to extend the leg spread, and the muscles on inner
part of my thighs sang out in pain. I had that sinking feeling in the pit of my
stomach as I was forced down to the mat. Like when you ride a roller coaster,
except here the fear wasn't manufactured. It was real.

The pain emanating from my balls after they smashed against the mat was mind
searing. She must have released me, because the next thing I remember is being
curled up in a fetal ball, holding onto myself with both hands, trying to catch
my breath. Again, the time that passed is unclear in my mind, but she waited
until I had recovered sufficiently such that I was able to get to my knees. As
soon as I put a hand out to steady myself as I tried to stand in the middle of
the ring, the Marquess grabbed it and put me in an arm bar! She cranked on my
arm and I couldn't take the punishment any more. I had reached my limit and
yelled out, "I submit to you!!!" The Marquess lightened up on the pressure but
didn't release the hold.

"You forgot to say, Ma'am, Troy. You forgot to say Ma'am." the Marquess coolly
announced, and began to give my arm another windmill twist.

"I submit to you, Ma'am!!! I submit to you, Ma'am!!!" I urgently cried out.

"Very good, Troy." the Marquess said and released me.

She brought over a bottle of water and placed it by my side. I was completely
defeated, but the Marquess obviously wanted to continue. I took as much time as
I dared before I would have to face her again.

My head and balls were still throbbing a bit. I just stood there in the middle
of the ring, almost too tired to move. But she came over to me. We locked up
cleanly and we wound up pressing our faces against each other, almost resting
our heads on each other's shoulders. But pressing and struggling hard with our
bodies.

Her right hand came off of my shoulder and I didn't even see her bring it up and
between us. I just felt her cradling my nuts. I tensed up, ready for her to
foul me by directly working my sore, very sore, nuts. But I was in no position
to complain, just to take whatever punishment the Marquess sought fit to dole
out for the benefit of her pleasure. But instead of squashing my nuts, she used
her long fingers to massage my prostate. I had never been subjected to this
grip before, and was very confused and unsettled by the extraordinary
combination of pleasure with a hint of pain as my cock sprang dutifully to
life. The Marquess didn't engage in anything so base as dirty talk, but her
simply breathing against my ear as we maintained the lockup was all the extra
enticement I needed.

I gasped as the Marquess brought her left hand into play, wrapping it around my
shaft. She gave me a slow and steady pull, and it was obvious that she had
lubed it during the break. She wasn't trying to DQ me or gain points. That
wasn't how pro style worked. The Marquess was obviously going for a Jack of
Pain. Having hurt my testicles with the Flying Nut Buster, she wanted to put on
the finishing touch by forcing me to ejaculate. I had seen it executed only a
few times on video and began to mentally gird myself for the pain that was
certainly going to overwhelm me.

Once the Marquess had gotten me hard enough, she stopped massaging my prostate
with her right hand and placed it back on my shoulder. I was leaning heavily
into her, my mouth agape against her shoulder. This was nothing like the
jacking that I had been subjected to when a girl was trying to DQ me. Each one
was a separate move in its own right, with a different grip, pressure and speed.
The Marquess would have had no problem getting a Quick Cum on me, but that
wasn't her plan. I was in another world now, that of intense and immediate
pleasure that was shadowed by the very certain onset of pain. She brought me to
the edge several times and finally I couldn't take it anymore.

"Oh Gods, please finish me off." I gasped out. We both knew I was asking for
her to hurt me.

"My pleasure, Troy." the Marquess said, and placing her left forearm under my
shaft, went again for the combination nut grip/prostate massage. I felt a
horrible welling up, like onrushing water against a dam. But since she wasn't
jacking me, there was no release. I cried out in pure frustration, like a
wounded animal asking to be put out of its misery. But the Marquess had no pity
and refused to provide the release I so desperately needed. I had no choice but
to shift my hips forward to rub myself against her forearm. I was a willing
participant in my own destruction!

My body convulsed. The orgasm seemed to start at my knees and gain force coming
up. The pain was nothing like that I have ever experienced before. It was of a
different quality. It was awe inspriring in its completeness, in its clarity.
I don't know how I kept on my feet, other than that the Marquess basically held
me up. By the time I caught my breath, I found that we were still locked up.

At this point, I was running on the last remants of fumes, with no gas left in
the tank. But, having been reduced to the level of an animal, I began to think
like one and just pushed against the Marquess with whatever I had left. I had
no grand plan in mind, other than to recover some element of dignity by pushing
her back. The Marquess stood her ground, and even tried to temporarily blind me
by rubbing her jizz-covered forearm against my eyes! I swatted away her arm,
and pushed her head down, slowly but surely forcing her back into the corner.

Having gotten the Marquess bent over and near the corner, I had a moment to
recover some semblance of myself. But not nearly enough to suggest that I was
acting in a sane or rational manner.

I went for a Standing Keister Smash by pressing forward so her ass would hit
against the middle turnbuckle. She let out a little yelp when I pushed her and
felt her hit against the hard, dried out pad that had seen years of use and had
been juryrigged to stay in place. The Marquess shifted to the side so she
wasn't square on the pad, but I pushed forward again. It felt like she went
back futher and the Marquess now groaned. I pulled her off the 'buckle and gave
her two more short, brusque pushes back. The Marquess whimpered and I felt her
legs tremble a bit. Ordinarily, I would haved asked if she submitted, but I was
far beyond normal conduct now.

I pulled her back off the buckle and held her tightly around the head as my face
was still resting against her back. She shifted her legs a bit, but I didn't
try to stop her as this hold seemed to be working. This time, I angled my head
as I pushed her back and saw what was happening. The Marquess grunted "Oh Gods
. . ." as she was pressed into the 'buckle. But while the 'buckle would hit the
shorter girls I wrestled in the tailbone, since the Marquess was taller and she
had repositioned herself so she was off-center a bit, the edge of the buckle --
which had unfinished and rough seam -- was pressing up against her pussy!!!
Then I had a rare moment of insight.

The Marquess was a jobber.

A confirmed, dyed in the wool jobber. She had put me through the paces to see
if I was worthy. Once I had passed, perhaps with flying colors, perhaps just
barely -- I would never know -- I was deemed worthy for her to job to me.

I gave her another little shove while she was against the buckle, and then
pulled her off. She was gasping open-mouthed now; a bit of drool fell onto my
foot. Even though her hands were resting ineffectually on my hips, I decided to
completely control her and went to grab each of her wrists in turn to put them
behind her back in a hammer lock. She put up a fight, however, slapping my
thighs until I pressed her backwards hard, without warning, and immediately
grabbed one wrist each time I nailed her.

So now the Marquess was completely in my control, as her ass was up and both
hands behind her back. How she remained on her feet was something of a mystery
-- she was just that strong. Instead of letting the Marquess position herself,
I lined up each shot myself, turning her body just so by moving her as I was
pressing down on her back with our hands interlocked. Her head was now totally
bent down so that it was almost between my legs. It was strangely intimate. I
would tighten my grip on her hands, our fingers in a tight embrace, and she
would respond in kind each time just before I pushed her back. I moved her from
side to side, so the shot would never be the same two times in a row. Just by
the way her body responded to the 'buckle shot, I knew if I gotten the stitched
seam on each side to rub against her lips. And when her whole body shook as if
taking a hard gut shot, that's when I knew I had gotten one right up the midway,
flush between her lips and probably against her clit.

Of course, forcing the Marquess back and hearing her give out all sorts of moans
and groans was turning me on enormously. Getting hard again hurt a bit, but
nothing like before. I'm sure if I had any brains I wouldn't have punished her
so. A punishment, admittedly, in which she was a willing participant.

"Oh Gods, please stop." the Marquess pleaded at one point.

"Submit to me. Do you yield?" I insisted.

"Never. I will never submit to a provincial commoner." the Marquess spat out.

For some reason, the way she said it made my blood boil for an instant. I
reached forward to grab her right ass cheek very low down, trying to spread her
a bit more, and did my best to aim her dead center for the stitching on the
right side. I was going for a clit shot, pure and simple. I pushed her head
down even further, and I closed my legs tight so she couldn't lift up her head
and butt me right in the balls -- something I should have done earlier. I
pushed forward with my arms and thrust my hips forward like I was trying to fuck
her. The Marquess shuddered and cried out now, differently than before. I was
ferocious for a few moments, out of control. I probably got in ten short, solid
shots in before her legs went out from under her and she collapsed to the mat.

The Marquess was in a fetal position, holding her crotch with both hands and
moaning. I almost freaked out, now having realized what I had done. But I
figured the only way out was to play it through.

"Do you submit to me?" I barked out.

She didn't even look up at me as she tried to catch her breath. She half gasped
and hissed out, "I told you, I never submit to a commoner!"

"Then it will have to be a Domination Submission." I responded, as that is the
only choice when an opponent will not admit defeat but cannot defend themselves.

The Marquess looked up at me, and I looked right into the Marquess' eyes after I
said this, and I don't know how or why, but we formed a very deep and tight
bond. In that instant, I seemed to know so much about her, even though I didn't
know her name. It was just a feeling, just for a moment, and the residue of
that moment colors my life to this day.

I stepped forward, my erect and twitching cock just inches from her mouth as she
was sitting back against the turnbuckle now, legs outstretched and both hands
covering herself. I started to count to 60, and took my time. The Marquess
looked up at me, her face partially obscured by my cock. She closed her eyes,
and the only sound other than my counting, which got quieter and slower, was
that of her moans as she pleasured herself. Sometimes she took in a quick
breath like it hurt, but I could see that the combination of pleasure and pain
was completely intoxicating. I knew where she was coming from, and respected
her for it.

When I finished my count, the Marquess opened her eyes and looked at me. "How
does it feel to have defeated a Marquess?" she asked.

"I didn't defeat a Marquess." I responded, having experienced the undeniable
fact that the opponent does not defeat a true jobber.

The Marquess seemed a bit startled by my answer. "But there is still the matter
of the Domination Submission." she said, and without pause, rested her head
against the pad that had inflicted so much pain and opened her mouth. Not wide
open like she was some kind of fish flopping around the deck, but open enough to
make her meaning plain.

I had gotten hard enough by hurting her, I'll admit. While I wasn't at full
extension and my balls were still radiating a low level of pain, I wasn't going
to turn down an offer like this. I stood before her, stradling her legs and
held onto the corner ropes with both hands. I sort of leaned in and pushed my
hips forward, expecting her to shift forward to take me in. She did no such
thing, but looked up at me and said "Troy, please do it properly, including the
ending. I wouldn't want to think I didn't pay my Domination Submission debt
fully."

With that inspiration, I put my cock into her mouth. It was sweeter than I ever
could have imagined. I gave it to her as I wanted, and she took it without
complaint or asking for a break. When I felt that familiar welling up, I pulled
out and shot a reasonable sized load -- under the circumstances, after all --
across her face. She didn't flinch a bit.

And then for the proper ending. I turned around so I was facing away from her
and reached back to grab ahold of the ropes on either side of the turnbuckle.
There's no really nice way of saying this, but I put my ass out and rubbed it
all over her face. Not hard like a facesit, but to rub my jizz into her skin.
Once I was done, it was my turn to get her a bottle of water. She drank from
it, but didn't pour any out to rinse her face.

"Troy, we still have the matter of the deciding fall, but I'm afraid my schedule
doesn't permit it at this time." The Marquess said as she was sitting against
the corner, covered in sweat and my jizz, still holding her sore crotch. But
she said it as if we hadn't finished a third game of Scrabble or some parlor
game. "And, may I ask a favor of you, perhaps?"

"Of course, Ma'am."

"No need for Ma'am, anymore, Troy, at least when we are alone. You may call me
Julia." The Marquess said with a surprising lilt of affection. "I seem to need
some assistance obtaining relief. Would you be a dear and . . . "

Even before she finished her sentence, I moved to lay down in front of her, my
face near the corner. I watched Julia pull herself up by the ropes and gingerly
climb on me, resting her head on my lower belly so her pussy was directly above
my face. Her lips were much abused, red and angry. I tasted her as gently as I
could, and used all of my limited skills in this regard. But she was already at
the edge, and her body shook violently as she lay on me. She lay on me for some
minutes, as the sweat dried on our bodies.

Julia backed up a bit, such that her pussy was on my mouth, and my nose directly
against her asshole, which I had so recently attacked with much purpose. She
rocked back and forth on me, and I put my tongue out for her use. Julia
pleasured herself several times in this position, and frequently reared back so
that my tongue was against her asshole. That seemed to please her tremendously,
and as she sat upright, fully on my face, reached back to pull her ass cheeks
apart so there was no question but that my tongue was against her asshole. I
felt that she pleasured herself with her hands most assuredly and had a final,
tremendous orgasm while seated on my face. We lay next to each other for some
time, not speaking.

There was a knock at the door and the Marquess declared "Enter." Her assistant
came in, begging the Marquess' pardon, and said that they were running quite a
bit behind schedule. The assistant came into the ring, and making no mention of
me or that my dried jizz was upon the Marquess' face, helped her out of the ring
to get cleaned up.

She didn't say goodbye.