Proud and Prejudged

Clara has published her first comic- erotic  short story about a young girl’s sexual awakening through literature.  And it is currently available to buy for $0.99 on Kindle through, you guessed it,


Proud and Prejudged: Being a Fabulous and Erotic Adventure of Clara Brooks

 As Clara closed the book on the last page of Pride and Prejudice she’d slipped from her world of fact into fiction.

“It’s really such a shame,” she thought to herself. “I always wished Lizzie would end up with Wickham. He’s not at all a proud stuck up prig like Darcy and he’s unspeakably hot. Still, I’d totally fuck the brains out of that lovely Darcy, too.”

The scene: A quiet sheltered British wood that borders a lake on a pleasant summer afternoon, perhaps an hour’s drive from London. Not a soul for miles to disturb the calm, and no sound to be heard save for the chattering of the birds and the melodic moans of pleasure that sing from a pretty, naked young girl named Clara Brooks.

The girl: Eighteen year old Clara Brooks. Something of an awkward introvert, raised by her parents to be a doctor and currently attending UCL medical school, but her heart isn’t in it and dropping out next year seems possible. She prefers to spend her time reading and thinking about the finer things in life: namely chocolate ice cream sundae, classic literature, amigurumi and sex with tall dark men. She prefers to hide herself away and read about the exotic lives of others to socialising with her friends, but in company her pleasant and warm persona shine through regardless and she’s much adored despite her geekiness.

She’s pretty as a peach, or so said her friend Matilda. Her delicate face, brown eyes, long chestnut hair and fine, pert slender figure are certainly a popular attraction at parties.

The event: Clara gently slips off her light dress and lets it fall down to the floor. She stops for a moment and sighs, enjoying the cool summer air as it caresses her tingling skin. Then she removes her lacy bra and panties, sliding her hands sensually over her body as she does so. She lies herself down gently in the wet grass beside the lake, breathing in sharply as the clammy cold soil touches her skin, further arousing her. Clara closes her eyes and slowly pushes two fingers inside of her aching tight pussy lips, then gently works herself towards a blistering orgasm, fondling her breasts and nipples, and wriggling her body around frantically as she does so.

The thought: Fitzwilliam Darcy’s huge throbbing cock thrusting itself slow and deep into her dripping wet pussy while she, at the same time, pleasures George Wickham’s erect member with her mouth. The two handsome men enter in and out of her with a musical rhythm, one cock sliding outwards as the other penetrates her willing hole deeper and deeper. Clara imagines with pleasure being taken, held, fucked and consumed by these two beautiful men, both of whom are so enrapt with Clara’s sensuality that they utterly fail to contain themselves and excitedly erupt inside of her cunt and her mouth, hot cum surging everywhere. She greedily consumes the discharge.

The result: Beginning with gentle moans that quickly turn into a satisfied shriek, waves of pleasure flutter through Clara’s body; she jerks, shudders and cums hard. Her pleasure is such that she cannot contain, jolting and rocking her body forth from side to side and with her eyes closed she cannot see that she is on the edge of the lake which she promptly tumbles into with a splash.

“What a dreadful finish to an otherwise satisfying afternoon!” Clara muttered angrily to herself. She spluttered her way slowly out of the lake and back onto the bank, lamenting that she’d have to wait awhile now to dry off before she could get dressed again. She wouldn’t have minded drip drying naked for a while, but unfortunately the afternoon was beginning to wane, the sun would soon go in and the weather would quickly turn cold. Returning to where she’d stripped out of her clothes she was somewhat surprised to find that they weren’t there. “How curious,” she thought to herself and searched around the area a little more thoroughly, turning up nothing but an old hardback book. Disturbingly it wasn’t the Austen book that she’d been reading, but another she hadn’t heard of “Fanny Hill or Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure”. She tossed the book aside irritated. “It’s a truth universally acknowledged,” she mused, “that a lone woman in the middle of nowhere in want of her clothes will probably to start to panic.”

A little distressed and thinking that the disappearance of her clothes was inconvenience enough, she was suddenly alarmed to hear a pair of voices. A man and a woman were conversing and walking into the glade in her direction and coming closer. The thought of being caught alone and naked in a wood wasn’t remotely appealing, but neither was there time to make a run for it. Fortunately a nearby tree provided enough cover for her to crouch behind and she watched as the couple entered into view, intent enough upon one another that they didn’t notice the undergrowth moving where Clara had darted through.

“In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” It was someone who spoke the words – Clara could not forget them – that Darcy had used to propose to Elizabeth. He was dressed like Darcy too, in a smart coat and riding breeches, and his diction was certainly that of an upper class gentleman. He was undeniably a striking and handsome man, and true to form he also seemed somewhat haughty and proud in manner. If Clara hadn’t known better she’d have mistook him for the man himself.

His female companion responded in the familiar way that Lizzie had done in the novel. “In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should be felt, and if I could feel gratitude, I would now thank you. But I cannot — I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly.” She was a young looking girl of around Clara’s age and strikingly pretty with a generous figure and delightfully full breasts that were further pronounced by her curious mode of dress cut just below the bustline. She had a remarkable air of vivaciousness and vibrancy to her and it was easy to see how anyone would fall for her charms.

“They really do look the part”” Clara thought to herself. “Why would they be pretending to be Darcy and Lizzie in a wood in the middle of nowhere? That makes no sense at all. And why do they perform their parts with such earnestness? If there were video-cameras around I’d think it were for the TV (heaven knows though, do we really need another adaptation of Pride and Prejudice?). Perhaps they are rehearsing?” The conclusion to the scene, however, confirmed that this was no rehearsal.

Disappointment spread across Darcy’s face. He opened his mouth intending to reply when Elizabeth suddenly stopped and motioned at the book that Clara had tossed aside which now lay open at her feet. “What’s this Mr.Darcy, a little light summer reading for when you’re short of hapless young girls to pursue?” She sniggered uncharacteristically and Clara suddenly remembered that she had heard of “Fanny Hill”, it was a well known work of late 18th Century pornography.

“I … I … I’ll have you know that’s not my book. One of the servants must have brought it out here. I’ll find out who it was for you and have them horsewhipped immediately.”

Lizzie grinned “Now, now Mr.Darcy that’s quite alright. There’s really no need to hide your little secret from me, I’m well aware that even upper class gentlemen have their … needs.” Her face bore a cross between good humour and disapprobation. This was a most irregular thing for anyone to be reading, of course, but all young ladies were a little bit curious nonetheless. “I’ve never looked into this kind of reading myself, of course, but I’m led to understand that it is … really most interesting indeed.”

“It’s not mine I tell you. Don’t be ridiculous. As if I’d spend my time reading such disreputable filth.

Lizzie had by this time picked up the book and begun flicking through it. “Oh my, Mister Darcy this is truly disgraceful. I am shocked at this sir. Shocked. Just listen to this…

“When we had sufficiently graduated our advances towards the main point, by toying, kissing, clipping, feeling my breasts, now round and plump, feeling that part of me I might call a furnace-mouth, from the prodigious intense heat his fiery touches had rekindled there, my young sportsman, embolden’d by every freedom he could wish, wantonly takes my hand, and carries it to that enormous machine of his, that stood with a stiffness! a hardness! an upward bent of erection! and which, together with its bottom dependence, the inestimable bulge of lady’s jewels, formed a grand show out of goods indeed! Then its dimensions, mocking either grasp or span, almost renew’d my terrors.”

Mr.Darcy, who hadn’t actually read the work in question, listened to Lizzie’s reading of the words intently, intrigued by the tenor of the passage. Lizzie, whose familiarity with the work in question was shortly to be cast in doubt by her action, appeared to be quite aroused by her own reading, since she slowed down, lingered on the more obscene passages “Is this the kind of behaviour that you imagine when you think about you and I Mr. Darcy?”

“I…ahhh” Darcy had been a little disarmed by Elizabeth’s forthrightness and was now entirely unsure how to respond. Even so, it was this side of Lizzie that he admired and was attracted to, her lack of heed for the strict mores of social correctness, and her determination to always speak her mind when she felt it right to do so. This was so unlike other women that he’d met, since they were all too frequently bred to be quiet and demure.

For her part Lizzie seemed to have decided that there was a more interesting side to Darcy and that he wasn’t just the one-dimensional pride filled fool she’d taken him to be. According to the evidence he was occasionally able to step off of his prejudicial hobby-horse and enjoy the finer things in life, and this knowledge stirred something within her that she suddenly felt compelled to explore. “I am most intrigued Mr.Darcy that you think in this way. These are very powerful thoughts indeed. I think I should like to know more of them. Tell me then, sir, what would you think of me if I were to do this…?

There followed three gasps of astonishment.

Firstly, Clara, the voyeur, gasped in astonishment as this scene from a favourite novel began to play out in a most unusual and unexpected way. Fortunately the two participants were entirely engrossed in their own actions and failed to hear Clara squeak as she watched Elizabeth Bennet move in towards Fitzwilliam Darcy and carefully unbutton his breeches. Secondly, Elizabeth Bennet gasped in astonishment as she carried out this action, one button at a time, before forcing them down and allowing to spring free the almightiest monster that lay hidden underneath. It is unclear if this was her first true sighting of a man’s cock, but certainly she could never before have laid eyes on one so firm, erect and huge. Her gasp of surprise was followed up by a lascivious grin and it was clear to the onlooker that Lizzie was very excited by what she was about to do. Thirdly, Mr Darcy let out a gasp of astonishment followed by a groan of pleasure as Lizzie began to handle the firm beast she’d just let free. Grasping, firstly, the base of the shaft and balls in her hand, and then kneading, exploring and caressing them fully before taking the whole thing into her mouth and sucking it back and forth with extreme vigor.

“Oh my,” thought Clara “This is a most interesting new interpretation of the book,” and – not taking her eyes off Lizzie and Darcy – her nude body slid downwards to rest against the base of the tree she’d been hiding behind.

Gasp followed gasp begat gasp, as Elizabeth Bennet eagerly performed a deep fellatio on Darcy. “Gasp” as his thick manhood slid firmly into the back of her throat and “gasp” as her gloved hand helped pull it back out again, wet with her saliva. Another “gasp” as she playfully grabbed the tool in her mouth with her teeth and artfully nibbled the tip of the cock, then swirled her tongue round and around the head.

“Oh. Mr.Darcy,” she breathed passionately in between gulping down his tool with zeal. “You have so much to be proud of. Why, this prize I do believe would make any girl richer than all the wonders of Pemberly.” She stopped to gaze longingly upon the erect throbbing thing that stood in front of her. “Why, I do not believe that any dowry I could offer would ever be worthy to satisfy such a beast.” Darcy could hardly reply for moaning as Lizzies tongue and mouth playfully darted up and down, covering every inch of the his gigantic shaft, and visibly making him harder every moment.

“Whatever do you mean Lizzie? He managed. “Why, that’s wonderful, just wonderful. Your charms were always more than enough to tempt me.”

“I mean, dear sir, that my little tight wet slit will never manage to hold in such a thing. And yet I feel I must somehow have you inside of me this instant or I shall probably explode. You will help satisfy me now won’t you?” She almost begged. Darcy was further surprised by Lizzie’s forthrightness and had never suspected that a girl such as Lizzie could have desired to feel the kind of pleasure she was currently providing him. This kind of behaviour in 19th Century women was really quite unseemly – and yet he liked it; he was delighted and aroused by Elizabeth advances. Now assured of her conquest, the girl jumped up and placed a lingering, sensual kiss on his lips, running her hands inside his shirt and upwards across his gorgeous, manly chest as she did so. He returned with vigour and eagerly took his opportunity to explore the body she threw at him as she did so.

2 thoughts on “Proud and Prejudged

  1. That picture above is kind of ironic, you know. It lacks passion. The brunette is staring off into the distance, like she’s distracted. She’s not looking the blond in the eyes like she should be. The blond wants her, but she’s not reciprocating.

    Lipstick lesbians confuse me. They are both vain and beautiful at the same time.

  2. Pingback: e[lust] 56 – A Sexual Being

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