Blackburn Wendell - The Amorous Adventures of Belinda

During the dark days of the second world war, when German bombs were devastating all of Britain, many strange things came to light. Age old secrets, hidden for centuries in long forgotten vaults, were brought to light. In one of these vaults beneath the ruins of an old monastery outside London, two manuscripts were found. One was a diary written by a man named Robert Walter Finch, the other, part of a novel by the same man obviously based on his life. Finch lived at the time of Elizabeth I when that fascinating monarch was almost at the end both of her reign and of her life. He was at court in the capacity of secretary and to advance his young niece, Belinda.

When these manuscripts were first found, they were immediately hidden away again. Too much was revealed of the lustful, orgiastic life of the English nobility of that time. Eventually, they fell into the hands of a man who asks that his name be kept secret. He is retired now, but once held the chair of history in one of England's greatest universities. As they stood, the manuscripts were barely readable. The language was, of course, archaic, and the literary style left much to be desired. My friend felt though, that they should be published in some form. Although the contents may have revealed a type of life many would like to forget existed, nonetheless, it did exist. The court of the elderly Elizabeth could well afford to indulge itself and it took full advantage of it. He gave the precious papers to me and asked me to see what I could do with them. The following book is the result. Although I have edited extensively, putting both diary and romance to use, none of the details or facts have been changed. It still gives us a true picture of at least one section of society in that long past day.

Blackburn Wendell

London, Eng. 1968

A light breeze ruffled the grasses beside the young girl as she dangled one foot in the stream. She sat on the bank, one leg hanging over the edge and the other bent so that her head rested on her knee. She was no more than a child but at twelve was a beautiful promise of the woman to come.

Her uncle, Rober Walter Finch, stood a little way down stream on the opposite side, and watched her. He noticed with deep, sensual pleasure how well developed his young ward was becoming. The position in which she sat spread her legs wide and pulled the light summer frock up around her thighs. He wondered what it would be like to fondle those soft, white columns and the cloth of his riding breeches tightened as his organ filled with blood and pushed against his pant leg.

Belinda lay back so that the thick black hair that had obscured his vision no longer hid from view the soft, deep recess of her virginal cunt. Dark, feathery down was just beginning to grow there but the lips still showed fat and rosy.

As he watched his hard tool pushing against him painfully, he became aware that he was not the only one snared by the young girls sexuality. Lying back on the bank, one leg still dangling and the other spread wide, her little hand moved down and stroked the soft flesh of her thigh. She tucked her dress up higher and smiled with pleasure as her hand explored the plumpness of her round stomach and ran down the other leg as far as she could reach. How good it would feel to have someone else fondle her. She paused for a moment, feeling the breeze and the warm sun on her pouting slit. It was almost as though someone were caressing her gently; almost, but not quite.

She moved her fingers, exploring the lips and sides of her little cunt. She felt herself become moist, and dipped her fingers into the heavy liquid. Her hips twitched against the grass, and her excitement grew. She put one finger deeply inside herself, wishing that it was something else.

Watching this unexpected delight her uncle could contain himself no longer. He opened his pants and released the huge throbbing cock from its restraint.

The hot little bitch. What a pity she should have to do that herself. I'd gladly rub her wet little cunt for her-yes, and lick it, too.

As he watched the child stroking herself, knowing only enough to arouse herself, but not enough to satisfy, his hand moved along the length of his cock. First slowly, then faster and faster as he felt the heat gather in his legs, making it almost impossible for him to stand.

Belinda was sighing and bouncing, her ringer going in and out of the tight, wet hole. It seemed that something more than this should happen, but she didn't know what. Finally, in an agony of frustration, she pulled her skirt down and leaped up.

As she bent to put her slippers on, Robert got a quick look at the fat hills that rose inside her dress. God, how pretty she was. Tiny, but roundly blown, her waist was no bigger than the span of a man's hands with round, firm hips below and high breasts jutting out above. He watched her fat buttocks bounce as she ran across the field and swore that someday he would place hand, tongue and penis in every crevice of that delightful body. She was obviously ready for it, and who better to fuck her than he?

He pulled on the huge column a few more times, then felt a great burst as the come spurted out of him, soaking the grass at his feet. If only, he thought, that rush of sperm had been shot high up inside that tight little cunt. Ah well, it would be soon enough.

Although the carnal delights of his ward were much on his mind, something else was even more so. For many years now England had avoided any major war. The raids of Drake and the other bold privateers were certainly a thorn in the side of the haughty Spanish, but as yet they had done little about it. Europe was rife with faction, but Elizabeth preferred the prosperity of peace, to using up good money on warfare. A woman's notion, certainly. Now that she was no longer young, there seemed even less likelihood of teaching the main-landers just who ruled the seas. Dutch, French and Spanish were all guilty of insolence toward the English but the Spanish were the worst offenders. Also, Robert added practically, the richest. If war were declared, the inadequately defended outposts of the Spanish in South America and the Caribbean could be attacked. Much plunder awaited from the looting of these treasure houses, and any man appointed governor of one of the ports could have riches undreamed of.

Cecil was with the Queen, as he had always been, but there were others who felt as Robert did. Walsingham was ardently prowar, and his secret service extended to every country in Europe. There were those who said that he gained little information that was not already bandied about the court, and even less than Elizabeth herself, that most shrewd and artful diplomat acquired through more regular channels, but no one could be sure. Robert was a staunch member of the Walsingham ranks as were more distinguished men like Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester and his second cousin, Sir David Cassen.

It was on Sir David that Robert Finch's plans now hung. Cassen was firmly entrenched in the Walsingham faction. Although he appeared at court as a licentious dandy, he was an important go-between for the network of spies in Spain and France. Mary of Scotland was the subject for many a plot and if information could be obtained naming certain men as fellow plotters, many of the enemies of Walsingham's war policy could be eliminated.

It had been discussed that Finch would go back to court with Sir David as his secretary where he would have an opportunity to mix With many who might have useful information. Although staunch-ily Anglican himself, his family had been Catholic and he would stand a good chance of insinuating himself into that group who wished to see England once again under a Catholic ruler.