A Twisted Bard's Tale

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A Twisted Bard’s Tale
© 2008 by Selena Kitt

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product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
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locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work
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First Edition 2008

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A Twisted Bard’s
Tale

By Selena Kitt

eXcessica gratis  * 
free fiction

Did you ever wonder what started
the feud between the Capulets and the Montagues? Check out this naughty version
of Romeo and Juliet—you'll be surprised and delighted by this twisted Bard's
tale!

Warning: This title contains
graphic language and f/f sex.

Table of Contents

A Twisted Bard’s Tale

About the Author

Bonus Excerpt!

More Books by Selena Kitt

More From Excessica

A Twisted Bard’s Tale

Lady Capulet
heard her daughter’s footsteps fading down the hall. Fair Juliet was going to
marry Paris. It was settled—her husband had decided the match. He had left for
town to brag this morning, leaving it to her to bring news to the girl, and she
had done so as well as her own mother had delivered the news to her at such a
tender age.

She could
still remember her mother’s hand against her cheek, imploring her to consider.
“Elizabeth, he is a fine match!” She had been Juliet’s age when she had married
into the house of Capulet and she knew what it was to be given into such
service.

Although, she
thought, Juliet was a great deal more headstrong than she had been at that age.
Her daughter was young and would outgrow it, but her heart led her now. Her
heart—and the steady, throbbing pulse beating between her gentle thighs! Lady
Capulet smiled. Ah, to be that young again! But no, she wouldn’t trade it. She
was a lifetime away from the young girl who had lain trembling beneath her
husband’s sweaty, thrusting body on her wedding night.

She
shuddered at the memory, hearing the old nurse knocking at her door.

“Anon,
m’lady!” the woman hissed, knocking again. “She is arrived!”

Lady Capulet
stood, straightening her gown. She was not so different from her daughter, she
realized, even now. She still let her heart lead her. “Enter.”

The old
nurse giggled and smiled, her eyes bright as she opened the door. A woman whose
radiant beauty rivaled Lady Capulet’s, a bright sun to her dark, full moon
night, swept into the room wearing a smile, her eyes burning with something
warm and rich.

“Catherine.”
Lady Capulet took the woman’s hands and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“Elizabeth.”
Lady Montague turned her cheek slightly, so the kiss found the corner of her
soft, smiling mouth.

The nurse
giggled again. “Montague and Capulet will be joined anon.”

“Leave us,
pray.” Lady Capulet nodded toward the nurse, still holding the other woman’s
hand in hers. “We do not wish to be disturbed.”

The nurse
sniffed, crossing her arms over her ample bosom. “Years upon years I have kept
you both aloft, with no man to find you, your secret mine alone to keep.”

“Enough,”
Lady Capulet held up her hand. “You have done so, sweet nurse, with gracious
goodness in your heart, and I beg you to do so now—with much haste.”

“Yes,
m’lady.”

When the
door closed, the two women looked at each other and smiled. It had been wholly
near a season since they had had occasion to meet. It was treacherous enough, a
Montague being seen within a Capulet’s walls, but for the lady of the house?
They both knew what risks they were taking. And still, nothing could keep them
apart. No man-made walls—no man.

“Nurse sent
word your husband was to town for the day.” Lady Montague lifted the other
woman’s hand and kissed her palm. “I heard about Juliet and knew I had to come
hence.”

Lady Capulet
shivered, her breath catching. “He is gone and you are here, as I wish it were
so always.” She pulled Lady Montague close to her, rubbing a soft cheek against
hers. Their breath mingled as the two women sought and found the sweetness of
each other’s lips, their kiss a tender re-exploration after months long apart.

The Lady
Capulet still wore only her dressing gown in the early morning hours. The Lady
Montague had come dressed for an outing—her long gown sweeping the floor, her
full breasts pressed up as an offering in a tightly laced bodice. Their hands
found one another, the thin material of the dressing gown giving one greater
access than the other, to which Lady Capulet’s moans could attest.

“These
damnable garments.” Lady Capulet pressed her cheek to her lover’s bodice, her
fingers groping along her back. “Turn.”

Lady
Montague turned and leaned against the bedpost while the other woman began to
unfasten her gown. “Oh, Elizabeth… hurry,” she whispered, aching to be skin to
skin with her lover. Her gown fell to the floor in a bright puddle of color and
she couldn’t wait any longer. She turned and they kissed again, less clothing
between the heat of their bodies now.

“Catherine,
it has been longer than I can bear!” Elizabeth Capulet, mother of Juliet and
wife of the House of Capulet, sank to her knees before the wife of Montague and
worshipped at the only temple she had ever known to move her completely.

Untying her
petticoat at the waist and wiggling it down her hips, Catherine Montague bent
for a moment to kiss the other woman, breathing in her scent as she stood,
leaning back against the bed post for support and spreading her legs wide. She
was wearing just her corset now, her blonde curls tumbling over her bound
breasts. Catherine moaned as Elizabeth’s mouth met her flesh, parting it with a
gentle, side-to-side tonguing, and she reached behind her to grab onto the bed
post, her knees weak at the sensation.

“Catherine!”
Elizabeth gasped between her thighs. “You are like heaven’s own scent.”

Elizabeth’s
tongue was as familiar with the other woman’s body as a fruit-bearing tree was
familiar with the sun. She drank her in as if she had been winter-starved for
her, her own body ripening like fruit against the heat of her lover’s radiant
light. Catherine’s gasps and moans filled the room, her juices flowing thick
and copious, soaking the front of the other woman’s gown, her knees growing so
weak she began to sink to the floor.

“The bed,”
Elizabeth offered, pressing their bodies together and her mouth to Catherine’s,
letting her taste her own sweetness. There was the matter of their clothes, and
they both paused, smiling as they unfastened one another, freeing their bodies
to the cool air and each other’s warmth.

The Lady
Elizabeth Capulet was a dark-haired beauty and, while her daughter was a
growing likeness, this woman was no bruised or withered fruit. She was still a
ripe plum, with a fleshy, juicy center and a firm, supple skin. She was only
eight and twenty this year, and although she had been a wife and mother long
that time, she felt to be still fully blooming open.

The Lady
Catherine Montague was her bright twin, and though others rarely saw the woman
smile and laugh the way she did here, in these chambers, there was no mistaking
the golden beauty she once was and the still glowing beauty she was now. A
sweet, ripe peach—she was slightly older than the other woman, and had been wed
and bed before her as well. It wasn’t too long after they each had their babes
in arms, Romeo toddling at Lady Montague’s feet, Juliet suckling at Lady
Capulet’s breast, the women had met and become fast friends.

“Do you
remember?” Catherine slid her body along her lover’s as they found their way
under the coverlet. “Do you remember the first time?”

“Yes.”
Elizabeth smiled, cupping the other woman’s face in her hands and kissing her
mouth, her cheeks, her chin. “And I have long since thanked the stars for that
day.”

“And I.”
Catherine closed her eyes as she remembered watching the young Juliet suckle
her mother’s breast, just as Elizabeth was suckling at hers now.

Oh, the
memory of how she had felt a wet heat between her thighs as she watched the
fat, pink bud of her friend’s nipple wet with milk and saliva! How Elizabeth
had given her babe to the nurse, her eyes dreamy and half-closed in that sweet,
pleasant after-nursing trance.

That early
morning, when Catherine had watched Romeo toddle off, holding the nurse’s hand,
and had somehow found her mouth latched there, suckling Elizabeth’s breast,
lifting her skirts and touching her between her legs.

It had been
the first time, but it would never be the last. She would move heaven and earth
to be with her lover now. Oh, how hungry they had been then. Two young women,
wed to older men who seemed to know or care nothing for how a woman was meant
to bloom open in delicious pleasure.

How hungry
they still were.

Elizabeth’s
hands knew her body well, after long years of delightful exploration. There was
no hesitation, no fear, no holding back. They were eager still, greedy, but
each knew just how to please the other, and they did, as often as they could,
as many ways as they could find. Catherine moaned and spread her legs, rubbing
herself as Elizabeth dipped her tongue into her navel, teasing her way
downward. She was wet and ready and wanting.

“Yes.”
Catherine felt her lover’s fingers probing inside, her tongue exploring the
soft, wet folds. There was nothing quite like this—Elizabeth’s full breasts
pressed against her thighs, her tongue tracing soft, rounded patterns again and
again over the tender bud of flesh between her parted lips, her lover’s hand
cupping her breast and pulling at her nipple, making her writhe and moan.
Nothing could compare to the soft, gentle, tender lapping lusciousness of the
two of them together.

“Oh!” The
Lady Montague’s thighs spread wide, trembling and quivering with her impending
orgasm, and the Lady Capulet knew it. Elizabeth’s mouth worked faster, her
tongue a relentless urging, her fingers a rhythmic encouragement. There was no
stopping it, and they both wanted just this. Catherine’s hands curled against
the coverlet, her cries filling the room as she came, flooding her lover’s
mouth with her juices. Elizabeth moaned too, eager to taste more, lapping at
her quivering flesh.