Madame Du Charmesse and Her Lovely Cunt

The lady suffered a terrible fever—and her pretty nurse should know....

(F, FF)

By: Punchinello

Veronaisse, France, 1770

In her private chambers, inside the house of Du Charmesse, the beautiful Madame Du Charmesse sat before her mirror, pondering the latest proposal of the Count Vinois for her daughter’s hand. In her hand she held a brush, as tho about to stroke the long, brown hair upon her head but only sat in thought, frozen in indecision.

“Good nurse?” she called.

“Madame?” answered her daughter’s pretty nurse, poking her head in the doorway.

“Where is my daughter, my sweet child?”

“Oh, I’ll be a fool, madame, but I don’t know. She was hereabout not long ago....”

“Never mind, Julia. She’ll come along.”

“Indeed she will, madame,” Julia agreed, then added slyly, “Perhaps she has gone to visit with that Vinois.”

“Nurse,” Madame Du Charmesse said slowly, dragging the brush thru her long brown hair. “I would speak to you about just that. Come, brush my hair for me.”

“Indeed madame,” Julia said, closing the door behind her. “A pleasure is it to stroke so fair a head.” She took the brush in one hand and the lengthy locks in the other.

“Oh, dear, you flatter me,” the lady said.

“But no,” the young nurse smiled warmly, “’tis quite a pretty thing, as fine as any in the city. And that I’ve heard from kitchens down to urchins.” She brushed her mistress’s hair with tender care.

“Oh, my daughter far outshines me in my age,” Madame Du Charmesse protested. “And she is of a pretty age now days.”

“You do yourself injustice, madame. Even now you are but two and thirty years—still a pretty age—without a blemish anywhere about you. No girl of just sixteen, since Lammastide—oh, and that’s just a fortnight past, now—no girl of just sixteen can quite compare.”

“How do you mean? She a fine thing, fit for marrying, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yes, milady,” said the nurse, going on about her brushing. “Fit for it, indeed. Why you yourself, and I as well, were hard-pressed by suitors at her age—and was my back sore for it! But well-grown were we, and it was plain to see—and so remains—” She hefted her youthful bosom in her hands for emphasis and to see her lady giggle lightly. “But Yvette, she’s just now firming up her tender breasts—they’ve yet to suckle any boy, besides a baby. And her thighs—I doubt she could withstand a full night’s romping from a keen and eager fellow.”

“Nursey!” gasped the lady, more in delight than shock. She half-turned to show her look of mock-displeasure.

“Oh, ’tis true, madame,” the younger woman averred. “And County Vinois is an eager fellow, to judge by the bulge of his breeches. But you, madame,” she cooed and wrapped her arm about her mistress. “Why you, with pinkish cheek and rosy lip, with ample breast and rounded hip—” She ran her hand lightly over her lady’s curvaceous frame, “—could field a pair of farmer’s sons, I’ll warrant, and still have breath to bed young Tysto.”

“Julia, he’s my nephew!” She rocked herself to and fro, tittering foolishly.

“Madame, please forgive,” the maid entreated laughingly. “But, you must admit, it surely would be sporting....”

“Yes, but—by my troth, girl, I should think it—” She bit her lip to keep from saying ‘incest.’

Julia did it for her. “Incest? Madame, thinking isn’t incest,” Julia blurted. She lay down the brush and put both arms around her mistress. She put her cheek to her lady’s and together they peered into the mirror. “And there’s little, by my broad front, I’d warrant he hasn’t thought....” Julia’s eyes twinkled with devilish innuendo.

“Julia, no....” Madame Du Charmesse protested modestly.

“...Or dreamed of doing....” She peered down the lady’s loose bodice openly, leering like a boy, even coaxing it out away from her mistress’s soft throat to get a better look at the firm round breasts and red nipples standing out upon them.

“You don’t imagine....?” began Madame Du Charmesse, laying her hand on Julia’s hip.

“Such fine fruits are ripe for any man’s picking, madame,” her nurse observed. “A taste of these should not be denied any tongue that dared imagine.”

“Nursey...Tysto?” Her soft eyes sparkled.

“And many more, I’ll warrant. See for yourself.” She deftly untied the lacings at the bodice of her lady’s gown. “See their shape? Their pallid softness?” They were indeed wonderfully round, creamy white like moons, and soft as fresh butter. “Feel them as tho you were another, imagine these another’s breasts....” She put her lady’s hands upon them, caressing them herself.

Madame Du Charmesse submitted, timidly fondling her round bosoms, staring at them in the mirror. “Oh, Julia,” she breathed.

“Compare, milady, if you will....” And Julia quickly undid the buttons down her own dress, freeing her heavy breasts too. “See how they hang?” she asked, handling them. “This I get from suckling little Yvette after my own Simone passed on to Heaven—God rest her pretty soul. A saucy bitch was Yvette; I have a scar upon my nipple, here, to show for her eager mouth.” She bent to show the little scar to Madame Du Charmesse, holding her heavy pap close by the lady’s face. “But your own,” she went on, “have no such blemish. They do not sag, but rather point straight out, like merry fellows, noses red with too much wine, and cute enough to pinch.” She tweaked the lady’s nipple with a grin, its rosy bead grown hard in the cool air.

“Pray, Julia, don’t,” the lady said, coyly covering her bosoms with her hands. “Your breasts are just as pretty, and larger still.”

“Oh no, madame,” the maid denied. “Yours are finer, nobler teats; for suckling lovers rather than a babe.” She smiled thru her teasing. She sat down upon the dressing stool beside her and moved her lady’s hand, caressed the soft flesh, dragged her finger around the nipple. “Compare them both,” she invited with earnest warmth. “Touch mine.”

Madame Du Charmesse raised her slender hand in timid curiosity, slow but sure of its intent. She wet her lips with a quick pink tongue, her eyes large with apprehension. Then she touched her nurse’s soft pink breast, stroked it, toyed with the nipple. Her other hand petted her own in long, loving circles.

“Your nipple stands forth more firmly, eager for a kiss,” the nurse observed.

“Yours merely needs...encouragement,” The lady breathed. She touched her finger to her tongue and used its moistness to coax the nurse’s nipple to erection. The pretty nurse stiffened and breathed sharply, moaning a soft moan.

Then Julia bent slowly, drawing her hand lightly down her lady’s pale throat, between her breasts, down to her quivering navel. She breathed hotly upon the flesh of her mistress’ red-flushed tit and saw the gooseflesh rise.

“They desire the suckling denied them of Yvette,” she whispered.

“Oh, Julia, no,” Madame Du Charmesse objected weakly. Then the first hot kisses came, warm and wet and teasing. “Oh, please,” she breathed.

Tenderly the pretty nurse satisfied the wanton nipples, tonguing circles round them, slowly caressing them. Madame Du Charmesse lay back, hanging onto Julia for support, caressing her bare back. The servant put one leg between her mistress’, parting her thighs slightly, bettering her support. She pushed the gown off Madame Du Charmesse’s white shoulders, kissed the flesh revealed there, and sighed hotly as she nuzzled her slender neck.

“Oh my dear Julia, no,” the lady panted. “This is a sin as sure as any.”

But the younger woman pushed the gown down farther, until her lady was naked to the waist. “Say nothing, madame, and the angels will not hear,” she whispered, kissing her throat, her jaw, flicking her tongue across her lady’s moist lips.

The lady moaned pitifully, like a small animal in a snare. Much more, she knew, and there would be no return, she would surely burst and cry out in rapture. Already the nurse’s knee pressed her thighs further apart. Already the nectar inside her began to flow, dampening her petticoat. Already Julia’s free hand unlaced the fancy underskirt, creeping closer to its goal inside her gown, pressing against her warm, perspiring skin. Already the young maid’s lips pressed against hers; the young maid’s tongue sought hers; the young maid’s lust spurred hers.

With a gasp, a deep-throated groan, Madame Du Charmesse pushed her passionate attendant away. “No!” she gasped. “I cannot, Julia. ’Tis not proper.” Her wide, dark eyes were damp and starry.

“As you will, madame,” Julia murmured, averting her gaze. Rising, she drew her dress together to cover herself. “I am sorry. I did not mean—”

“The fault does not lie solely with you, Julia dear,” her mistress assured her, sweeping back her hair. “Go now; attend to your duties. Find my daughter.”

“I will, madame,” Julia spoke quietly, doing up her buttons.

“From now on,” Madame Du Charmesse said. “We must only be servant and mistress.”

“Yes madame.”

“You are my maidservant and nurse.”

“Of course, madame.” She went quickly, not looking back as she shut the door behind her.

But Madame Du Charmesse did not adjust her gown. She did not lace up her bodice. Instead, she stood and let fall her gown. She went to the bed, then, half nude, touching her bare breast, and shuffled out of her petticoat. Gloriously revealed, plainly and utterly naked, she lay upon the bed.

With one hand upon her pointed tit and one upon her moist female mound, she caressed herself. She cast back her head in total abandon and rubbed the fleshly lips in carnal pleasure. She moaned and bit her soft red lip, dreaming wicked, lecherous fantasies, and gave herself over completely to her lewd desires.

So engrossed was she with her indulgence that she did not note the quiet opening of the chamber door or the soft tread of foot across the threshold. Indeed, just then, even as Julia, the daring girl, crossed over the threshold did her lady, heedless, cross the threshold of rapture to be swallowed up by limitless ecstasy. She writhed and bucked with great groans of pleasure, arching her back like a magnificent mare rearing in spirited sport.

Again and again she thrust her hips up, rubbing ardently, moaning out in reverie while Julia stepped back against the door, smiling, staring, panting. Her own hand fell to her girlish favors. She pressed her hand between her thighs even as her lady did, bit her lip, gasped for breath thru flaring nostrils. She saw the dampness between her lady’s legs and stared in fascination.

As her lady cooled, the beads of sweat glistening on her soft, glowing skin, Julia stepped forward. Thinking quickly, she reached back for the door handle and opened and shut quickly, then strode across the floor to her lady’s bed. Madame Du Charmesse started suddenly, cast her gaze at the door in alarm, and moved to cover herself out of chagrin.

“Milady,” Julia twittered, “have you taken ill?” She came so quickly to the bedside that Madame Du Charmesse had no time to turn the coverlet or take up her petticoat where it lay.

“No, dear child,” her lady protested, still looking for a method by which to cover her nakedness. “It is nothing. Do not bother her. I will be fine.”

Julia touched her forehead. “You are!” she squeaked. “Milady, you are burning up with fever! Allow me to examine you,” Julia smiled. The two women looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment.

“I— I don’t know,” Madame Du Charmesse said with a worried look.

“But I am your nurse, madame,” Julia said in plain-faced honesty.

“Yes,” Madame said at last. And she lay back completely, spread bare for her maidservant.

Julia ran her hands lightly over the lady’s nude form. She touched her breasts and belly, causing the lady to breathe more heavily and watch her nurse more closely. “My,” Julia said, “what a pounding heart.” She bent to listen to beat, pressing her cheek to her mistress’s bare breast, warm and soft. “My, my.”

Next, the younger woman caressed her lady’s sides and hips. “You are very warm all over, madame,” she said softly.

“Yes,” Madame admitted, “everywhere.” She bit her lip as her servant paused over her thick, curly bush.

“And moist,” Julia said. “I would say you have a fever.” She pressed her face very close to the lady’s open legs, close enough to smell the musty scent of lust.

“Oh, Julia,” Madame Du Charmesse breathed.

“Tell me where it hurts, madame,” the girl asked. She cupped the woman’s breasts in both hands. “Here?” The lady shook her head. Julia pinched the nipples. “Even now?” Still the lady shook her head and looked away. Julia smiled and pressed her warm, slender hands into the lady’s sides. “Here?” she asked.

“No, not at all,” the lady said.

Julia slid her hand down further, thru the thick curls at the curve of Madame’s belly, and pressed her hand between the lady’s legs to cup her swollen twat. “And here?” Madame could only moan softly. Julia smiled. “I believe we have found the source of your troubles, madame,” she smiled.

“Oh, yes, nursey,” the lady moaned.

Julia leaned close. “The body has many humours,” she said. “You’re privates are nearly soaked. The only way to test the nature of the humour is... taste.”

“Taste?”

“Oh yes, madame,” the nurse claimed. “Salty or sweet, tart or sour. It’s the only way.”

“Oh my.”

Julia bent between her mistress’s legs and brushed back her hair. She spread the lady’s swollen lips apart and slipped her tongue into the warm, wet groove. Madame Du Charmesse groaned with pleasure. “Oh, Julia,” she breathed. “Oh, my darling girl. Taste me deeply. Drink my wetness.”

Julia’s tongue slid up and down the lady’s slit, lapping up the juicy goodness and making the woman writhe and moan. Then Madame took the girl in her arms and raised her up. “But my sweet nurse,” she said, “you are warm also. Surely you have a fever as well.”

“Do I madame?” the girl asked. And they came together in a soft, luscious kiss, with full lips and warm tongues.

“I want to taste you also,” Madame said. “I want to taste your sweet humours.”

Julia stood erect and undid the buttons she had buttoned up only minutes before. Her dress fell away around her and revealed again the heavy breasts with hard nipples that Madame had held. She climbed atop her lady and positioned her warm, pink slit over the lady’s face. Madame brought her down to her mouth like a hungry child, licking the flowing juices.

“Unh! Oh! Yes!” gasped Julia. “Oh, madame!” Then she dived down into the lady’s warm sex and began to lap again at the thick wetness there.

The two women writhed together in ecstasy, sucking each other’s pink treasure boxes and rocking their hips in lewd unison. But Madame Du Charmesse’s lust was greater, and her nurse’s tongue was quicker and more eager. Soon, Madame could do nothing more than gasp and moan, “Yes, Julia! Oh, my pretty darling!” She began to tremble under the cruel focus of Julia’s pink lash. “Don’t stop, darling! Oh! Suck it! My fever is about to break! Suck my pretty pink button!” Julia covered Madame’s pussy with her mouth and sucked hard on the hot, hard button of her clit. Her mistress cried out in total abandon, gasping uncontrollably, clutching at her naked body, and bucking hard. “Oh! Oh, yes! It’s perfect! It’s so good!”

But their fun wasn’t over yet. Even as Madame’s sexual bliss subsided, her pulled her nurse down to her mouth again and resumed the lusty tasting she had done before. Julia tossed her head and groaned in grateful pleasure. “Oh, madame,” she cooed. “What pleasure! Your tongue is— is— oh! Oh!” She bit her lip and rode her lady’s tongue with soft whimpers. She rocked her hips and sighed heavily. Her heavy breasts hung down and swayed with the motion of her body as she slowly fucked her mistress’s face.

At last, Julia’s body trembled and shook. “Oh mistress! Oh, milady! Oh! That’s it! You’ve found it! Oh! What bliss!” Her juices poured out over Madame Du Charmesse’s tongue, sticky sweet and tangy like spiced honey. “Oh yes, madame! Don’t stop! Thrust your tongue, madame! It’s wonderful!” And she collapsed upon the noble woman, writhing in absolute pleasure, their naked bodies mingling and tangling in wild abandon.

They arranged themselves again so that they might look into one another’s eyes, overcome with weariness and perspiration. “What wondrous pleasure you’ve given me, nursey. Never have I known such completeness,” Madame said softly.

“Thank you madame,” Julia said. “The pleasure was mine. Feeling your tongue inside me was utter bliss.”

“Oh, you naughty thing,” her mistress chided. But they came together in a soft, sensual kiss, tasting one another together, sex and saliva in one decadent moment.

Julia rose and began to dress. “You’ll need a full recovery,” she advised. The nurse turned the coverlet and let her lady wriggle underneath. “You must stay abed the rest of the day.” She covered her slowly. “Find some activity to keep you engaged.”

“Yes,” the lady smiled.

Not long after, Yvette appeared in her doorway, blue eyes sparkling. “I picked flowers in the garden, beautiful flowers,” the girl sang. She threw her arms around her mother. Her flesh was still warm and moist with her spent passion. “The day is glorious, simply glorious! But why are you abed, madame?” the girl asked innocently. “You are not ill, I trust?”

“No, child, no,” said her mother, brushing the hair back from her face. “Nurse Julia has inquired. She only recommends a little rest.”

Yvette smiled. “Do recover quickly. There is the ball tonight, and you simply cannot miss it.”

Madame took her daughter’s hand. “There is a matter I must discuss with you, a pressing matter.”

“What is it?” asked the maiden.

“There is a man, the County Vinois,” the lady began. “He has inquired after you. It seems his heart beats only for your face. He seeks a wife, you know, and fancy has taken him to you. He is a noble fellow, the very portrait of a man, as any artist might set down.”

“Indeed?”

“Indeed. Tonight he’ll be with others in our hall, to drink the wine and dance. Peruse him at your leisure, catch his eye; he’s sure to be the one who hangs most near. Measure yourself against his person, my daughter, and ask what better match you’ll find. I was close about your age when I took wedding vows and learned the delights of the marriage bed. Feast upon his attentions, and dream about a wifely role.”

“I will look,” said Yvette. “And I will read what interest there I can. I’ll taste if he be sour or sweet.”

“Go then, my dear,” the lady smiled. “Find happiness tonight.” They embraced warmly again.

Yvette turned to go, but then turned back. "Mother?" she asked, "would you have me send nursey back to attend to you? You are still quite warm."

Madame Du Charmesse smiled. "In a little while, darling. I'm afraid she's rather worn herself out for the moment."

All models are 18 years or older, regardless of the text.