July 16th 1720

To his most serene highness, Philip, Prince of Hesse-Darmstadt, Duke of Mantua.

Excellency, it was with profound pleasure and the utmost delight that I took possession this morning of your fine cottage. The rustic beauty, drama and tranquility of this house and the extensive woods with which it is surrounded, will, I feel certain, inspire in me the composition of music of the most profound beauty; a fitting ornament to the grandeur, magnificence and solemnity of your imperial court.

oo0oo

With a flint-lock rifle slung over his shoulder, Antonio strode onto the cobbled path that wound its way into the woods behind the cottage. He had left his servant Pordenone to organize the house and to prepare a rustic midday meal with provisions that the pair had purchased in one of the picturesque Lombard villages that they had passed along the way.

The beautiful, hot July day saw him dressed in his loose shirt of fine white linen with black leather breeches and boots. His long, flowing red hair caught the breeze as he savored the delicious scents of the forest; pine, chestnut, myrtle, and mulberry with the marvelous perfumes of a profusion of wildflowers. And sweet was the bird song when it came to him amongst the rustle of the verdant and shady canopy above.

“How beautiful,” he thought, “Why did I waste so many years in Venice?”

Suddenly he remembered the rifle and glanced up into the trees. The songbirds sang on but he could see nothing large enough to make a meal out of. Up ahead he now saw the emerging ruins of what had once been a substantial stone building. As he approached, the seemingly ancient moss and ivy-covered walls, it became clear that the path passed right between them. A few minutes later as the path began to slope down, he heard the low sound of running water and began to entertain the possibility of bagging a duck or two.

He saw wild sage and rosemary growing between the stones and as he reached up to pick some of the herbs, he saw the languidly flowing stream below and turned. His mouth fell open at what he then saw. Not a stone's throw away, a tall, naked woman was wading, with her back to him, in the dark waters of the stream; waters that he soon realized were of sufficient depth to bathe in. Instinctively he drew back behind the wall but continued to watch her.

She was of more than average height with riotous cascades of chestnut brown hair reaching to her lower back. His eyes traced smooth alabaster skin below her cascading mane until they fell upon the finely chiseled cleft of her firm buttocks. Buttocks that at that instant disappeared under the water. She swam strongly away from him for several minutes then turned her face towards him. A twinge of guilt had begun to coalesce in his mind but it was swiftly banished by the glorious visage he now beheld.

Dark doe eyes and arched brows, rosy cheeks, and full red lips below a slightly aquiline nose and a sharp, delicately pointed chin. She could not have been older than thirty he reasoned, when his senses returned to him and he followed her steady, tranquil gaze as she swam with confidence and practiced grace. Music welled up in his mind as she turned again and he followed the wake of her perfect shoulders as they were caressed by the waters.

He slowly drew back again as she glanced in his direction and then admonished himself; he had every right to be here. The Prince's letter gave him full tenure of the cottage and its grounds for as long as he liked. An image of the Prince's long, typically Hapsburg, profile momentarily entered his mind as he continued watching the mysterious nymph bathe.

“Grazie signore, grazie...”

She now swam towards the far bank and he noticed her clothes tucked into the hollow of a huge stump. They seemed simple, rustic clothes.

“A village maid? A miller's daughter? Surely not, this is Artemis incarnate.”

He watched her rise from the stream as rivulets of water ran down her hair, across her lower back, and between her perfect buttocks. Her legs were long and slim and her fine smooth skin did not, in any way, resemble that of a hard-working peasant's daughter. But deductive thought was well beyond him at this point. She raised her fingers to her mouth and produced a curious low whistle, perhaps to call her flock. Reluctantly he turned away and sat behind the wall. He sighed and began to contemplate returning to the cottage. Pordenone would have long prepared his midday meal by now.

But he found himself unable to move, so he rested his head back against the moss-covered wall for several minutes until he heard a slight rustle to his right. He was about to get up when his vision was filled with a divine radiance. She stood not six feet away from him, dressed only in a large, loose shirt of fine cambric, a man's shirt. It clung to her wet skin and barely covered her breasts, which hung like ripe quinces from her ivory chest. Through the shirt's cords, he could just see her navel but the wet fabric only hinted at what treasures might lie concealed further down.

He was speechless but then his attention was diverted by two ominous black shapes that sat on either side of her. These were a huge pair of identical mastiffs who now regarded him steadily with bright, onyx eyes. A look of alarm rapidly clouded his features and he threw their mistress an entreating glance. When she spoke, her voice was sweet as honey and as gentle as a summer breeze.

“Do you like my dogs, sir?”

He looked her in the eyes and nodded slowly.

“I trust you also enjoyed watching me bathe...”

Again he nodded and this time he thought he saw a fleeting smile upon her lips.

“Then you must do me the honor of bathing with me.”

Mesmerized by her ravishing black eyes, he rose. With the dogs looking on, she stepped up to him and slowly removed his shirt. Then, without the slightest hesitation, she gripped his belt buckle, unfastened it, and pulled his breeches down. Standing back, she crossed her arms and watched him with bemusement as he struggled to remove his boots. She giggled slightly as he finally discarded the last of his clothing and slowly turned to face her. His cock drew her eyes down momentarily and then she took his hand.

With the two mastiffs following close behind, she led him to the river and waded, without hesitation, into the cool, babbling waters. Antonio immediately felt a thrilling and soothing coolness race up his legs and embrace his nether regions as his eyes savored the woman's bewitching beauty. Up close, he was more certain than ever that he was either dreaming or that he had encountered a nymph that had guarded this stream from distant antiquity to that very day.

When the water had reached their waists, she turned to him and he looked down to see the white fabric of her shirt wave in the waters. It had floated up, revealing the distinct shade of her mound. His mouth fell open and she reached up and shut it with supple cool fingers.

“No, do not speak sir. Let us enjoy instead, the sounds of nature; both our own and those around us.”

With that, she kissed him passionately and he found his hands clasping her exquisite form. His palms found their way under the heavy, wet fabric and settled on her hips, drawing her closer as their lips locked and their tongues entwined. Her hands found his cock and bathed it sensuously in the stream's limpid flow. His hands meanwhile had found her breasts and he marveled at her fleshy rosebud nipples now made hard and prominent. He smiled as she laughed and played with his shaft; flicking his foreskin back and forth slowly, firmly, and teasingly under the water and marveling as it rapidly hardened in her hand. He was entranced by her face and the bountiful beauty of her body, but now he saw a need in her eyes too. It was a need that he too often felt but it was a need that necessity demanded that he deny himself.

“Well,” he thought, “maybe not today.”

They kissed and fondled in the crystal waters until she was satisfied with his level of arousal. His hands had strayed between her legs on numerous occasions and while she did nothing to impede his explorations there, he got the impression that she was saving this most choice of her delights for last. With his cock firmly in her grasp, she now led him slowly back to the river bank and they settled at a relatively secluded place where an old postern gate had been. While her faithful dogs reclined patiently nearby, she removed her shirt and spread it on the smooth dry flagstones. She drew him onto it and immediately knelt before him. With growing passion and obvious skill, she pumped his shaft and soon slid it into her mouth. She sighed and moaned softly as she settled down to enjoy the sheer delight of his rigid flesh.

Antonio had never experienced anything like it, and his eyes were transfixed by her beautiful chestnut locks as they swayed and flowed below him. She parted his legs and cupped his loose, fleshy balls in her palm; thereby working his cock deeper and deeper into her mouth. The riot of pleasure caused him to thrust into her mouth and soon their bodies were operating in perfect unison.

Long, delicious moments passed until she stopped abruptly and lay down. She looked at him, licking her lips lasciviously and running her hand down to her pussy. Instinctively he knew what to do and lowered his glistening cock towards her rampant, dark slit. When he was within reach she grabbed his head and slid it effortlessly into her.

“Now fuck me,” she whispered. It was the most beautifully poetic phrase he had ever heard in his life.

She wrapped her legs around his hips and he soon found himself lost in that sweet abyss of lust and desire that he had so often dreamt about. She bucked and swayed beneath him, teasing his cock expertly with the muscles of her velvet depths. Her legs drew him deeper and deeper into her pussy's embrace until he could feel the gathering swell of her climax. She cried, moaned, and sighed as he felt her muscles constrict around his shaft. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she bucked and quivered. He was overwhelmed and soon he felt the delicious inevitability of his own fulfilment. Six perfect thrusts; each more powerful than the last, and he unleashed a deluge of seed deep into the snug embrace of her pussy. The sensation was for him one of exquisite delight and exceptional rarity.

oo00oo

“Maestro, where have you been? The chicken cacciatore that I made for you went cold hours ago.”

But Antonio answered with only a vague excuse that he had got lost in the woods. Pordenone's obvious annoyance was interrupted by the approaching sound of galloping hooves. Both men rushed out onto the porch in time to see a black stallion slow to a canter as it passed. On its back there rode a woman dressed in a white cambric shirt, red leather breeches, and boots. At her waist, she wore a bandoleer with two flintlock pistols, and, around her neck, a necklace of sparkling emeralds. Abundant chestnut hair bounced riotously behind her. She glanced at the two bystanders and Antonio thought he caught a winsome smile.

“Who is she Pordenone?”

“Oh that is the Contessa Alessandra Occionero. Her estates border these grounds to the west I believe sir.”