Chapter 110

Stuart held still for over a minute, allowing her to become accustomed to the penetration. When he felt her start to squeeze down on him, he knew she was ready for his movement and he started sliding out, going to just before the crown of his cock would leave her body and the muscular ring was clasping so tightly under the rim, then pushed back in. He thrilled to the moans of satisfaction Ailene was making with the slow fucking of her ass. Slow and steady, back and forth, the pressure on his cock delightful in it's intensity.

"Faster love," Ailene panted. "You can't hurt me now, it feels so good."

Stuart reached down to begin stroking her mound, paying much attention to her clitoris. Ailene moaned louder. He increased the pace of his thrusting, not ramming her yet, but moving twice the speed as before. Ailene was easily accepting the fucking, her ass plunging back in tempo with his forward plunges. As he increased the speed and force of his plunges into her fundament, his fingers increased the rubbing of her clitoris, poking proudly from her folds.

"I'm going to cum, Stuart, it feels so good. Will you be able to cum with me?"

"If I speed up," he replied.

"You can go faster. I'm open to you now," she panted. "You can't hurt me."

The pace of his fucking picked up, finding a good rhythm to reach his release. His abdomen was slamming into her buttocks and his balls slapping against her cunt as he rammed his cock deep in her bowels.

"I cum," Ailene said, and Stuart felt the exquisite contractions of her release on his prick, sending him past the point of no return as well. He grunted and slammed into her as he felt the surge of cream up his cock to spew deep in her bottom. When all their primary pulsations ended, Ailene collapsed to the bed, Stuart still deep within her. To avoid crushing her, he turned as he collapsed, pulling her with him so he fell on his side, still buried in her. Delightful aftershock vibrations kept her occasionally bearing down on him, draining what little he had left to give her until he started to shrink. Eventually, one of her final contractions squeezed his limp organ from her bum with a slight pop.

Stuart curled against her back, idly caressing her breast. Ailene's hand was on his hip pulling him against her.

"I spoke to Bjarkë while you were at the magistrates."

"About what, Stuart?" Ailene asked.

"I asked about the men standing guard on you and Isobel. Who they were and if they were capable of keeping their mouths shut."

"Why?" She asked.

"If on occasion, you were particularly lonely and wanted some company for the night, if they would gossip about you going into Frang's and Isobel's room or if they could be depended upon to ignore it, given I had no issues with it."

"What did he say?" Ailene asked, curious.

"'If you have no problem with your wife in another man's room,' Bjarkë said, 'I'm sure we can trust them to keep quiet about it.' It's not to have sex,' I told him, 'Ailene gets lonely sometimes without another body beside hers. They'd all be dressed and any coupling between Frang and Isobel would be done before you arrived or after you'd left.' I'm sure he had other questions about it, but he said no more about it, save he'd tell them it'd be worth their hides if they spoke of it out of turn."

"You would not care if I went to them?"

"Nay. Given you've already refused to have more sex with my brothers, I trust you implicitly. Even if you chose to do so, I'd not care, though I'd wish to be told it's what you're doing."

"Even if I wanted to, which I don't, I don't foresee Isobel agreeing to such an arrangement. It would mean telling her all the things I'm too ashamed to tell her now. If it weren't for the fact she suggested it, I'd never consider asking. I'm not sure now if I'd take her up on her offer though it's nice to have the choice. Thank you, Stuart. You're a good man and I love you so much."

"If you do go," Stuart said, "you might want to mention you're concerned for her pregnancy, and I've agreed you may need to keep a close eye on her. It might help dispel any doubts your guards have about the arrangement."

Ailene turned and hugged him fiercely. "It's only been a couple hours, Stuart. I say we try to encourage your little man to do his duty one more time. Give me something more to remember you by during the long weeks ahead."

"I'm willing to exert myself to perform my marital duties, love. What would you have me do?"

"Lie still for now while I get a cloth and water to wash us off with. I'm feeling sticky."

Ailene got up, poured some water in the basin and rinsed a hotel cloth in the water. After wringing it out, she returned to Stuart with a impish grin on her face.

Frang and Isobel were able to sell their goods for a good price and together they strolled down to the gambling establishment. Frang knocked and they let him in upon seeing who it was. He was a frequent visitor, or had been at one time. He was still fairly regular. Both Isobel and Frang went to the card room and Frang looked around. There were quite a few regulars including his old acquaintance, Abner McTavish.

"Gentlemen," Frang nodded to them, "McTavish, I would think you're a little too hard up for cash to still be gambling."

"I've managed to win a bit, Mr. Cameron. My luck has changed a bit since last we played."

"That's why you keep losing, McTavish. You think playing cards is a matter of luck instead of skill. If it was strictly luck, at the end of the night, we'd all end up even because the luck would have gone back and forth, all around the table. You have no skill. You depend on luck and no one stays lucky."

"Despite what you think, Mr. high and mighty Cameron, I'm feeling lucky right now and I got some money right here you haven't taken off of me, so what say you shut up, sit down and play."

"Aye, if you want to lose some more money, it's no skin off my hide. Deal the cards."

Abner started dealing the cards. "I see you brought that little whore of my ex-wife with you."

Frang stood up from the table and kicked his chair back. "McTavish, you're a stupid fuck and just this once I'm going excuse your poor choice of words, but you just called my wife a whore and if you don't apologize right now, I'm going to haul your ass out that door and whip your fat ugly self to within an inch of death. The choice is entirely yours."

The rest of the men pushed back from the table and gave Frang a straight shot at Abner if he pushed the table out of the way.

Abner looked at Frang and realized he was standing on a razor's edge. The anger in his eyes and tension in his voice was crystal clear to McTavish. He knew Frang would do exactly what he said. At heart, McTavish was a coward and he did not like the idea of facing Frang in anything like a fair fight. It was the reason he was hoping to break him by taking his money.

"I'm sorry," he said, directed to Frang.

"Not to me! Apologize to Isobel, you ignorant lout. And make it sincere."

"I'm sorry I called you a whore," McTavish said, loud enough for all to hear.

"Is it satisfactory?" Frang asked Isobel.

"I don't expect much of him," Isobel said. "What he says means nothing to me."

Frang nodded and sat back down. McTavish breathed a little easier and finished dealing the cards. Isobel sat behind him, watching as they played the game. Frang warned Isobel he couldn't discuss the game while they were playing but if she had questions, to remember what they were and he would answer all of her questions later. Isobel nodded in understanding. The play started.

Having every expectation play would go exactly as it had every other time, Frang took out the money from the sale of their goods this morning. In an hour, he had lost most of it. Never had play gone so bad as it was today. Every time he had a good hand, McTavish folded, every time he bluffed, McTavish bet on, sometimes foolishly so, but still he won. The other players, playing cautiously, were losing far less than Frang, though all of them were losing by various degrees. Frang, playing as he always did, confident in his abilities to read other players was betting more and losing more. The pile of money in front of McTavish was growing by leaps and bounds, the money in front of Frang dissipating to a few silvers. There was no way McTavish had gotten this good since the last time Frang played him. Was it luck, blind luck, defeating him now?