The View From the Hill at Twilight - Cover

The View From the Hill at Twilight

Copyright© 2018 by Janet Fremont

Prologue

Romantic Sex Story: Prologue - A girl with a seemingly impossible dream. Life is never what you think is mostlikely.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual  

The hilltop was fairly open, only a few sparse trees to block the view. There was just one large, very old maple right at the top, towering over anything else close by. The sun was just at the edge of the horizon but the thick clouds hid the orb itself, while still letting its fiery colors infect their edges. A little farther to the north the clouds were more gray with just the slightest touch of reddish orange but were often set off by flashes of distant heat lightning. It was a hot, damp July evening, high in the eastern Kentucky mountains. Perhaps the distant clouds promised the chance of a cooling thunderstorm before morning. The “red sky at night” of the distant clouds was probably a little far away to accurately predict good weather before the dawn. The wind had dropped with only the occasional slight zephyr to interrupt the damp heat. Fireflies were starting to rise from the grass, flashing their answers to the invitations of their mates on the ground below. Otherwise the world seemed still, frozen in a scene of relaxation rarely achieved in nature. Only the infrequent cry of a whippoorwill interrupted the silence of the evening.

Leaning back against the trunk of the huge maple was a pretty girl with blue eyes and long, corn silk blonde hair hanging loose about her shoulders. A slight smile ghosted across her face as she thought that the tree had been here before her great, great, great grandparents had moved into this part of the country. Its trunk was almost five feet across and it rose above anything nearby. Emily Letton was thirteen. She often came up here to just sit and think and liked to believe that in the distant past some young Cherokee girl had leaned against this same trunk when the tree was much smaller. There was a good chance she was right in her belief.

Emily could be found here most any time of year and many times of day. In fall when the dark clouds scudded across the open sky and the bright colored leaves rattled in the wind. In winter when often the surrounding hills were white with a soft blanket of snow. In spring when the leaves were just budding and violets and other spring flowers carpeted the surrounding land. On a sunny noontime or a cloudy afternoon. Sometimes as the sun was just rising, its rays spreading from the eastern peaks across the land. Even sometimes at night when the stars filling the sky seemed without number. But her favorite time was in summer at twilight, just before sunset. Then the breeze usually dropped, the air began to cool and the world began to settle for the night. From June through August fireflies began to rise from the grass and the occasional call of an owl or whippoorwill was all that disturbed the silence.

Emily had come up here frequently for a number of years. The view across the land was always lovely. And inspiring. To Emily the view wasn’t limited to the actual landscape but also included a view into herself and, sometimes, a view into her future.

Sometimes her brother, John, seven years older, accompanied her to the hilltop but most often she came alone. Anytime she had a problem or a decision to make or any other big topic to consider, she found this place most conducive to serious thought. Lately she had been giving a lot of thought to her future. She was getting to an age where other girls she knew were beginning to talk about their future expectations, but theirs were far removed from her own. At thirteen most of the girls had begun to seriously notice boys. In this remote region most of the families had been around for generations and most of the girls thought they would be no different. Almost all were thinking about marriage to some local boy. Oh, not immediately, of course. They would wait until they were at least sixteen. Actually most would not get married until into their early twenties despite the stereotype of the Kentucky hill dwellers. Still, at thirteen, most were looking forward to a limited future. A couple were sure they would be great country singers and move to California or at least Nashville but most thought they would spend their lives in these hills.

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