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‘You cannot be serious?’ I sounded as incredulous as I felt, at least to judge from the look on her face.
‘The Count will suspect nothing. You hide behind the mask, pretend to be me, and then, when I discover him with you, I shall have him!’
The Countess had not, in my view, thought this crazy scheme through.
Yes, Count Almaviva was notorious for asserting the ancient ‘droit de seigneur,’ by which the feudal Lord claimed the right to the virginity of any bride in his domain. And yes, he seduced other women. But how my pretending to be the Countess would help her cause, I failed to see.
She explained that he had promised to give up his philandering, and that as there was no way I could realistically pass for her, she would be able to accuse him of breaking his word, which would, she was convinced, make him so ashamed that he would behave in future.
It all seemed far-fetched to me, but what did I know? I was a disciple of Sappho and knew as much about men as the next lesbian, which was that they were generally okay until their penises led them into trouble. If the Countess thought it would work, I was game. I loved Rosina, but from a distance, as she had never shown the slightest sign of being interested in me. Unlike her wretched page, Cherubino, who seemed to think that anything in a skirt between the ages of 16 and 60 was fair game. I longed to introduce him to the Scotsman we had met in Madrid last year; that would settle his hash.
So it was, that evening that the Countess’ maid, Susanna, dressed me in her new gown. She told me that Figaro, her betrothed, had sent secret letters to the Count telling him that the Countess was having an affair. We looked at each other. Susanna explained that Figaro wanted to make the Count as jealous as he was making Figaro by wanting Susanna. Personally, wanting both Susanna and Rosina, I thought I had most cause to be jealous; but I declined to say so.
So it was that we launched into the masked ball on an evening of hormonally-charged emotions.
Even in heels, I was a good few inches shorter than the Countess, and even with a push up bustier, my bosom was no match for her alabaster mounds, but in the candlelight, and with the anonymity conferred by the masks, it seemed as though anything went. I looked round, and could not see the Countess. Had Susanna dressed her in some gown I did not know? Odd, I thought, the way the masks concealed the familiar.
I felt a tap on my shoulder.
I turned. A tall masked man faced me, and asked for the pleasure of the next dance.
He grasped my waist, and we launched into a dance. He was a good dancer, unusually light on his feet, even graceful. I felt his hand slide around me, and wander down. But unlike most men who did that, he was not clumsy or groping. His fingers fluttered along my back, and he pulled me to him with grace. Before I knew it, he had istanbul escort kissed me. I was confused. Usually I would have been revolted, but somehow, his kiss was not displeasing. We bowed to each other at the end, and he moved on.
I felt flustered. I had never danced with a man and felt like that. Well, there was a first time for everything.
As the evening wore on, it was clear that the Count was attracted to a rather slight young lady. She seemed familiar? Perhaps she was the doctor’s daughter. He had already had three dances with her, and he clearly hankered after her company. When she rested, I joined her.
‘Are you alright, my dear?’ I asked, tenderly.
‘I am, I am, but I cannot say that I find the Count’s attentions to my taste, can you not control your husband, my lady?’
It was, I thought, a night of fools, surely this slip of a girl could not possibly think I was the Countess? But she clearly did. I advised her to avoid him for the rest of the evening.
I noticed the Count keeping his eye on me. He seemed to think I was his wife. He really did need some of those spectacles which Dr Bartolo wanted him to wear. But, as ever with Rosina, he steered clear and did not seek a dance with me.
As the dancing ended, we retired to the tables to eat, and I noticed many a masked couple take the opportunity to sit together, and slip off into the woods.
‘A drink, my dear?’
It was the masked man from the dance. He handed me a glass of champagne. I took it. We clinked glasses and drank.
He talked easily, and seemed genuinely interested in me, and while it was obvious that he wanted me, he did not press in the way most men did. Had I finally met a gentleman?
Two glasses of champagne later, and I was beginning to warm to him. A most unexpected development, but, so I reasoned, I suppose one should try almost anything once. There was something about him which drew me to him. We kissed.
‘Will you come with me to the little boathouse by the lake?’
I nodded.
He took my hand. We walked, unobserved, toward the lake.
There were lights in the boathouse, and the interior was warm and welcoming.
‘I must confess I had hoped for this. Indeed, I have wanted this for some time?’
My confusion must have shown on my face.
‘I had thought, my lady, that you did not care for men? Have you perhaps changed your mind?’
He was flirting madly with me.
‘There is something different about you. Kiss me.’
We kissed. As his tongue entered my mouth, my hands went instinctively to his chest. HIS chest?
My hand encountered a hard nipple and breast flesh. Swiftly I moved it to his crotch. It was smooth.
He laughed, and, removing his mask revealed the familiar face of … Rosina.
‘You, you, you …’ I stammered.
‘Did I fool you darling? Come, kiss me more.’
I şişli escort threw myself into her arms. Our lips met. Her tongue invaded my mouth, which gladly welcomed her.
Unbuttoning her shirt. I broke off the kiss to nibble her proud, firm nipples. My tongue flicked at them, feeling them yield to my ministrations, as I pushed them to and fro, and side to side, before sucking, gently, but firmly. She moaned.
My hands began to pull her breeches down. She grabbed me again, and kissed me long, hard and firmly. It was my turn to moan.
As I removed the clothing from her bottom half, I knelt between her legs. I looked up.
‘You never showed any sign, darling Rosina?’
‘I was scared, but somehow the mask and the chance to dress up, made it alright.’
I smiled, and dived between her luscious thighs.
Her sex tasted delicious. She was already gooey, her juices thick and almost creamy. Slowly, my broad tongue lapped up from near her dark star hole, upwards to her bud, which I pressed back with my tongue, pushing it from side to side, before applying my lips to it, and sucking firmly. She gasped, moaning more loudly. My fingers, pressing, parted her wet petals, and entered her, curling upwards. I sucked hard, grazing her bud with my teeth; she gyrated her hips. I sucked harder.
I applied myself with great gusto to licking and sucking her wetness. I sucked urgently on her bud, gripping it with my mouth and caressing it, whilst licking it. As my fingers took her, hard, deep and ever faster she began to moan more loudly. I could feel her trembling, her sex beginning to clench my probing fingers.
As she moaned, I moved my other hand down to where her juices were collecting around her dark star hole, and using her own girl goo as lubricant, began to penetrate her there too. As my finger passed through her relaxed muscle, she suddenly yielded everything, exploding in my face, coating me with her thick, pungent juices. But, albeit more slowly, I kept on with my ministrations, and within moments, she was shuddering again, yielding a second time. It would take a third time before she whimpered for me to stop.
I eased up her body, and kissed her so she could taste herself on my lips.
‘Ohhh, that was marvellous,’ she said to me, caressing me, and pulling me even closer.
‘I have wondered about how that would be, for so long, and it was indescribable. Thank you!’
If she was happy, I was. There seemed little point, at this stage, in showing her how to reciprocate. I was conscious of what Susanna had said about an anonymous letter, and suggested we should dress quickly. Looking through the window as we did, I saw shadows moving in the folly by the orangery. I suggested to the Countess it might be worth investigating, as I had seen the Count pass that way earlier.
In her male apparel, and masked once more, she seemed to possess mecidiyeköy escort the courage which had so often deserted her. I put my mask on, and once more essayed to play the role of the Countess.
We strolled toward the folly, and as we got closer, we could discern the sound of two voices, one of which was clearly the Count’s.
‘I want you, and I will have you, now yield!’
We had come at the right moment. The Count was making his move on the young lady with whom he had been dancing.
‘But sir, sir, I would not do as you wish.’
‘Damn you, woman, you are all the same, yield or I shall take you?’
‘Sir, can you not take me in the Turkish fashion, I fear the loss of my virginity/’
‘Damn you woman, all right, drawers down and bend over, Damn me, it is dark in here, I can scarcely see your luscious arse.’
Well he may not have been able to see, but his sense of touch had not deserted him, and slowly but firmly, he pressed into her anus. She moaned.
‘Fuck, how I want your cunt, you cunning little vixen!’
To my horror, the Countess spoke.
‘You might find that difficult!’
‘What the fucking fuck? Who the hell are you sir?’ He asked, angrily.
‘More to the point is who are you fucking?’
‘That voice?’ He looked puzzled. ‘And you, wife, what are you doing here?’ He pointed at me.
The Countess suddenly dropped the voice she had been using, the deeper one.
‘Tell him who you are?’
She stepped forward, still masked, and removed the girl’s mask.
‘But you, you,’ the Count blustered, ‘you are my wife?’ He pointed at me, but then, recognising her voice, turned, mouth open to her.
‘No, I said,’ she is,’ pointing at her.
‘And I am Cherubino,’ said the figure in the skirts, bent over, with the Count still in his ass.
Suddenly losing all vigour, the Count hastily put his penis away.
‘I think, dear, the Bishop will be most interested in your sodomy.’
‘I didn’t know it was the Page,’ the Count blustered.
‘I am sure that the Bishop will take that into account, after all, sodomy is a capital crime!’
‘I am sure, dear, we can come to an arrangement,’ the Count wheedled.
‘Oh we can, darling,’ said the Countess, removing her mask, and smiling.
‘Any more major philandering on your part, and I tell the Bishop, and I have two witnesses.’
The Countess, in her male attire, was firmer than I had ever heard her. He responded accordingly, and as Cherubino pulled his skirts down, the Count acknowledged defeat.
‘You said “major” philandering?’
‘I know you, all men are the same, but no more claiming the virginity of the village girls, understood?’
‘Agreed,’ said the Count, breathing a sigh of relief.
She kissed me, in front of him.
‘But,’ he began to protest.
‘I think you will find, dear, that men fucking men is a sin, but that women kissing women is not. Shall we go and ask the Bishop?’
‘No dear,’ he said.
And with that, she swept me into her arms for a big long kiss.
The crazy night was ending well – for the Countess and I.
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