Upon my fifteenth birthday, four years ago last month, I became apprenticed
to mine own father, an innkeeper of some repute. For four years, I
plied his trade, learning nuance and routine, doing all that seemed
to him to please our boarders, and then some. After four years at
this station, I was given the rank of journeyman to him, and in that
promotion increased in terms both of authority and responsibility,
with only three more years before my name would join his on the signboard.
One of my new responsibilities as journeyman included livery duties
for our distinguished guests, and, whenever a guest's horse's shoes
looked worn and in need of replacement, it would be my responsibility
to take the horses to the furrier to have them re-shod.
Well, not one month after my nineteenth birthday, I took my first
trip for just such an activity. It was about a mile walk to the Blacksmith's
forge, and I couldn't ride the two horses due to the fact that they
didn't belong to me and the shoes were bad. Simms was renowned
throughout the surrounding villages for his skills as both a Blacksmith
and a Furrier, and the bag of coins my father had given to me ensured that
he would, indeed, be doing his finest work for us this day.
Upon arrival at the forge, tired and hungry from the long walk, Smithy
Simms greeted me warmly, and congratulated me upon my new position.
After informing me that it would be some two and a half hours to make
the shoes and then to shoe the horses, he insisted that I go into
his house and direct his daughter to give me nourishment of bread
After thanking him, I turned my heels toward the cottage, and as I
walked, I thought of his daughter. She was the picture of happiness
some six years ago, having just turned eighteen, and betrothed to
a man who had won her in competition with at least two other beaux.
however, with not a month to go before the nuptials, her mother died
giving birth to twin sons. As a result, the wedding was called off,
and she was forced by this unfortunate circumstance to serve her father
and brothers until such time as they could take care of themselves.
It was obvious at the time that she was deeply upset by the death
of her mother, but what I had noticed at the time was that she was
AS upset at the prospect of giving up the life of a wife and mother
herself, a sorrow which lasted much longer than the mourning for her
mother. Nowadays, I would see her in the churchyard or in the chapel,
wearing rather staid, high-necked dresses and hoods, and the smiles
we would exchange were always tainted with that lonely sorrow which
never really seemed to evaporate, even on the most joyous of occasions.
As I entered the cottage, I heard her singing a sweet, soft melody
to herself, and as I stood in the kitchen doorway, I saw her. She
was seated on a stool in the corner behind a washtub. She was busying
herself washing what appeared to be a corset. As she washed and sang,
I noticed that as she was washing her OWN clothes, the extent of her
wardrobe this day was a light, threadbare house-frock which, on its
own, would have displayed so very much of the curves and darkness
of her bodily accents, but with the addition of water splashed from
the washtub, was nigh transparent, and I found myself hypnotized by
the gentle undulation of her breasts as they clung to the wet fabric
of the frock. My manhood responded quickly, but I attempted to compose
myself, clutched my hat nervously in front of my crotch, and gave
a hearty greeting.
"Miss Simms, greetings. You may remember me, Simon, son of Larkspur.
Your father has given me leave to ask for vittles. Would you serve
a hungry man?"
This day is as so many have been these 6 long years... rising before
the dawn to tend the hens, resting my sleepy head against the warm
side of our Lucy as I milk her and think about what might have been
had my sweet mother not been taken.
But the days work lies ahead and I must continue on my father and
siblings require a woman to tend to their breakfast and not to dream.
I am startled with a strangers voice intruding in my thoughts and
jump up... knocking my tub of water askew... sloshing more soapy water
onto my legs... realizing what I am clutching against my breast a flush
fills my face and I quickly shove my undergarment back into the water.
No man should see what a woman has closest to her skin...
Stammering... attempting to recover my composure... drying my hands and
walking towards you " Why yes... I do have vittles to feed a
hungry man. I am glad to do so... come in and make yourself comfortable
Simon, Son of Larkspur... My father has spoken kindly of you and your
kin. And I have seen you myself in the village and am glad of your
company this day.
'tis a fur piece from the inn to this shoppe, and I am most glad and
grateful to have a moment's respite, and the promise of a full belly
soon... what is that wonderful smell coming from the hearth? What morsels
stew in the cook pot? My father has told me more than once that the
key to the married man's happiness is what fills the cook-pot... I
daresay he was speaking from great hunger on that day, but smelling
this, I can see his point...
Trying to avoid fixing my gaze upon your supple body, tightly wrapped
and clearly apparent through the thin, wet frock, i concentrate upon
your eyes... the sadness I have so oft seen deep in the distance behind
them is still there, but there is a lightness there too... you brush
the damp lock of hair, which dangles before your eye, back behind
your ear to give me a clear look at them... I stand, transfixed... but
my eyes wander yet again to your breasts, your legs... I feel captivated,
but must needs take the gentleman's part... I throw my summer cloak
off my shoulders and proffer it to you...
"Here, Miss Simms, please take this whilst you prepare for me... such
delicious promise must not be kept waiting..."
Sitting down at the small wooden table, I breathe deeply, remembering
my responsibilities, and the guaranty I gave to my father to see the
task done aright...
Confusion renders my voice silent for a moment. Sudden understanding
why you wouldst be handing me your cloak sweeps over me. Quickly accepting
the garment I whip it quickly around my damp self. Again a mighty
blush is causing me to squirm with the knowledge that you have seen
me almost in totality with the water causing the thin fabric to cling
most immodestly to my body. I wonder just how much you had seen...
I don't dare look down for fear of drawing your attention to me once
But I feel a strange tightening in my middle and bend to the task
at hand to try and send it away...
Gathering a wooden platter, scooping a goodly portion of the thick
fragrant stew adding a large chunk of fresh barley loaf and setting
it before you at the table. I look quickly at your hands reaching
for the plate and think that you are a fine figured man. Not so rough
as many that I have seen... your hands although rough were sensitive.
I did not see you as a brawny blacksmith... but who was I to guess
your life's pleasure... perhaps that is your dream.
You look at me with a bite of bread held to your lips and a question
in your eyes... "Oh... Forgive me" I stammer again as
a foolish schoolgirl..." I forgot your cold drink what is your
wish?... fresh water or a mug of my fathers mead... not the best
though... that we keep for the high days and special occasions..."
That with the sovereigns your father will earn from mine this day
he can surely procure the best mead once again if thou werest to give
me sup... but indeed, I would also respect him, and would nay seek
to discredit your honor over a mere cup of mead, so I shall take the
Sent to a peaceful place within by the hot and savory taste of the
meal, I sigh aloud and exclaim as I swallow, "Ah, Miss Simms,
this is exactly of which my father bespoke... I hope your father and
brothers see the great privilege they have in tasting of your fine
cookery each day. Oh, were you to fill MY plate each sunset... I would
give most anything I had for THAT privilege..."
You approach the table with the mug of mead, and I push the chair
out to invite you to sit with me... raising the mug to my lips and
brushing the hair off of your face yet again (doesn't seem to want
to stay behind your ear), I repeat... leaning in toward your ear, "most
Impetuously, I gently rub the tip of my nose over your cheek and breathe
the scent of sweat and soap from your delicate skin...
Having surreptitiously watched your every move from your strong teeth
biting into the thick bread... your lips as they moved in the manner
of chewing... your throat is most fascinating... my eyes are drawn
down to your chest and shoulders and I realize my breath is being
held tight into myself and have to let it out quietly to ease the
tension I am feeling for some reason while you are here with me. I
know you are keeping a conversation going but my mind is not on it
and I am afraid several times having to ask you to repeat yourself
has now more than likely caused you to think me addled and thick-witted
As you quickly devoured with the relish every morsel of food laid
in front of you. I smile softly for it does a woman good to know her
work is appreciated and your words and actions bespeak a man that
does admire a woman's work and the long looks that you rest upon me
have made it clear that not only my food do you admire.
Your sudden closeness and touch sends my heart to pounding... I flash
a wide eyed look at you... seeing your warm brown eyes so very close
to mine own is wreaking havoc with my senses.
I can't pull away... tumbling thoughts of what I should do... I should
pull away I should go someplace else... bid you good bye... have you
But none of those things are in my power to do right now and all I
can see is your lips coming closer to mine and I close my eyes with
a delicious shiver and wait breathlessly...
Like the tiniest ember on a field of dry grass...
The wildfire of feelings which consume us from the second our lips
press together fills the room it is so palpable... your body goes limp
instantly, near begging for me to take you to me, hold you tight,
to not let you swoon... I coalesce, and my strong arms envelop you
win a warm embrace, cooled only by the wetness of your frock... my
cloak falls to the ground behind you, and our kiss deepens...
Never before have I imagined what a kiss from the dark beauty Velvet
Simms might hold for me, for us, but now all questions are answered... the
savor of the meal still dancing in my mouth, a new taste, a new hunger
burns in me, to speak my love deep into your mouth... your light tongue,
only hinted at by your gentle voice, is yet lighter than my fantasy,
so much so I am near ashamed of the roughness of mine own, yet it
dances delicately around mine so that my manhood can but respond in
the affirmative, and the room is once again filled both with tension
and with a lack thereof, with excitement, yet also with complete relaxation...
I stand, emboldened by the moment, and lift you in my arms, once again,
kissing you on the mouth, then looking you in your soft, willing eyes,
ask the question that my heart screams out:
"Where, Velvet Simms, Where can we go? I must... I must have you,
there is no doubt you wish it too... show me, post haste!"
The urgency in your voice matches mine own feelings... and I am furiously
thinking of how much I need more... more of your touch... your hands
running over my quivering frame... your lean hard body against mine...
the rush from our tongues dancing causes sparkles of pleasure to run
thru my entire body... oh how weak my limbs are... How weak but oh
so right... my center aches for something more... I move against you
restlessly... so glad for your strength in keeping me close to you
as right now it is all I can do to keep myself from sinking down right
here... surrendering to you.
A sudden flash of thought
I smile happily... clasp your strong hand in mine pulling you recklessly
out of my fathers house into the summer sun. Catching my skirt up
in hand... a small laugh escapes me... I feel so free, so ready for
what is to come... I know not everything that is between a man and
woman but something is telling me that everything will be right... you
are right... I am not stopping whatever it may be... running with
you behind me... sending the chickens flying in front of our dash to
the small barn where Lucy shelters in the colder times... my milking
stool is there and my cloak for the frosty mornings of care taking
Ducking my head to step inside the portal... eyes adjusting to the
darkness the cool air soothing my flushed cheeks... my breast heaving
from the excitement of this moment I turn and face you...
As we run with all speed to our dark sanctuary...
I glance over toward the smithy shoppe... your father is still working
the bellows and anvil, so I know his task is not yet half finished... this
frees my mind to pursue you... your frock, wafting in the hot sun,
is practically dry by the time we reach the barn, and, ducking behind
you, I hold your hips as if to not be lost in this unfamiliar hideaway...
I, too, have a moment to adjust mine eyes to the darkness of the barn... faint
smells of the winter inhabitants, clearer aromas of the fields and
flowers outside, fill my nose as full as the cook pot had yet moments
before... when I can once again see you clearly, the feature that stands
most prominent in your countenance is a laugh in your eyes, a joy
in the sway of your gentle hips, a freedom in your breath... you take
my hand yet again and pull me into one of the stalls... freshly-raked
with clean straw, you throw down your winter-cloak and wrap your arms
round my neck, looking happily into my eyes...
I am a man... a man determined... and I know what I must needs have,
and that this is the moment I must take it...
I kneel before you and, placing my hands on the sides of your knees,
I run my hands upward along your body, carrying the frock with them... you
raise your arms in gentle compliance, and as I whip it over your head,
I toss it back toward the head of your cloak, forming a n almost-pillow
in this rough-hewn barn...
I take both your hands in mine and with a wink in my eye, help you
to fall back onto the straw and the garments, your full womanhood
beautiful and present to my eye... I, Simon Larkspur, have found my
happiness... I kneel down and whisper..."Velvet" and we kiss
Laying back against the softness spread beneath me... filled with
the warmth of your gaze... the cool air making me completely aware
of my nakedness... I am not afraid nor shamed in it... I see only
your need and sweet expression of desire and a soft shudder courses
through me. Your lips capture mine again... my arms slip about the
nape of your neck... fingers cup your head feeling the silkiness of
your hair whilst the press of your jerkin and laces rub against my
tender exposed skin.
I look at you with eyes suddenly heavy with some unnamed desire filling
my every movement... languidly I slide my lips across yours with a
desire to feel more of your skin... the prickle of your half days
beard... your male scent fills my nostrils... the taste of your skin
seeping between my lips...
Pressing against you my breasts ache... my stomach is fluttering
with a need... I feel moisture in that place between my legs that
has not felt the touch of a man. Your kisses are wild yet tender... sweeping
me along this path... we ravish each others lips and tongues again
and again till not humanly possible to continue with out a tiny gulp
of air to assuage our burning lungs.
My hands wander down your shoulders... the need to feel your skin
against mine causes my fingers to pick anxiously at the ties and soon
your chest is bared... sitting up never leaving me for long you impatiently
shrug off your shirt and I trail my fingers down your chest... tracing
the muscles... lingering for a moment on your flat nipples. like mine
but then not... mine that are tight and hard and aching now... I see
you shiver at my touch and I wonder if you feel the same... you must
there is no way you cannot. skimming along the path of your hair down
to your stomach... and wonder at the heat of your skin beneath my fingertips...
you lean forward and press kiss after kiss along my throat and face...
Breathing deep, filling my lungs
with your intoxicating scents--the sweat of a working woman, the soap
of a laundress, and now, a new scent fills my nostrils as my nose
traces a path over your face, down your neck, between your supple
breasts... the scent still fresh in my nose, I yet stop my progress
to fix my attention upon them...
moving my hands up your sides to your armpits, you feel the gentle
suggestion and raise your arms over your head, lazily trailing them
in the straw... the position of your arms simultaneously tightens your
breasts against your chest and causes your nipples to push toward
the ceiling of the barn, or, as it were, toward my eyes... I move
my hands from your armpits inward, and take the full fleshiness of
your breasts in my hands... nipples pressing hard against my palms,
I knead and squeeze your soft feminine teats... perhaps the lowing
we hear is a jealous Lucy, knowing she never had it so good as this
moving my hands over to expose your nipples, yet not releasing my
grip on your breasts, I let the saliva build in my mouth and gently
cover your left nipple with my mouth, coating it therewith as I lick
across the tips and around the base, and gently sucking upon it, not
unlike a babe seeking milk from its dear mother... oh the joy I feel
as I feel you heave your chest upward, hear your breathing change
and start with sighs of passion released... sucking harder, biting
gently, feeling you push upward with your hips against my still-hidden
manhood, I suddenly let your left breast flop free and turn all attention
to the right... once again, voracious yet gentle, giving it as much
attention as the aforementioned... looking up to your face, your closed
eyes, your slightly parted lips, the moans slowly growing louder and
deeper from your lungs, I suddenly hear a sound...
A soft sound to be sure... but coming from within you, I know your
passion grows... a spongy sound, a gentle slurping, from below your
belly, and at once that new scent yet again fills the air in al its
freshness... you open your eyes, I sense a pleading... and, following
my nose to the origin, I trail that very nose down between your breasts,
down past your navel, and into territories I have heretofore not yet
traversed... I plunge bravely onward...
Your lips and fingers are sending exquisite sensations shimmering thru out my taunt passion filled body... the very air we breath is redolent with sensual abandon of a man and woman that have lost all sense of the outside world and only can focus on attaining the highest pleasure known.
Your hands urging my arms up... then sliding down my skin like a waterfall smooth and insistent... my nipples respond to your wet mouth, your soft touch... Your tongue washing them with such fervor... I gasp and wonder how I can stand anymore of this pleasure... your fingers are wandering across my skin... my breasts soft and firm in your hand... you finally cup with your warm hands and tease my hard nipple causing all sorts of soft sighs to escape my soft lips and my head is again swirling with the heady touch of your tongue to my skin...
This sweet exploration is stoking my arousal... my intense need for you evident in my quickened breathing in your soft whispers of encouragement... my quiet amazement of such a fire awakened for the first time... I reach out my fingers and stroke your shoulder... caressing reveling in the textures of your skin... finding realizing what a man feels like to touch and explore is a wondrous thing... caresses to your shoulders down your back soft inducement for you... Such an ache here in the center of me... with a natural heave of my hips... feeling the press of your manhood... some wild thing is pawing to be aloud to rise up from inside me... I can feel it growling to be released... to wake fully and come sweeping me along its path.
Ohhhhh your lips are taking that un-trod path... I feel the stickiness... a slow wetness trickling between my soft thighs and wonder at the effect you are having... laying here not breathing but with close quick gasps as your lips softly press down and work magic upon me here in the winter barn a top the fragrant hay on this perfect summer day...
The warmth... of this barn is intense, not so oppressive as the summer heat outside,
but stirred by the passion shared, builds like lightning between us
as I continue my search downward... as I kiss my way downward past your navel,
I slide my hands down to your knees... down on the inward side, and cupping the
backs of your knees, I lift them both up and push them back and apart so that they
are suspended just above your shoulders... a purposed glance into your
soft eyes, a motioning of the head is al you need to tell you that
I wish for you to replace my hands with yours, that I might free mine
own to explore your feminine bliss...
As your hands replace mine holding your legs back and open for me,
I slide my hands down the length of your thighs, caressing softly
all the way downward... soon, my hands are poised at the fleshy softness
of your arse-cheeks, and I caress and gently squeeze them as I now
begin to trail my nose round your womanhood... at first, simply breathing
deeply, selfishly taking in the sweet-hot scent of your arousal, but
soon pressing my nose directly into the source... I begin to softly
glide the bulb-tip of my nose up and down along the length of the
entrance, gently, as a feather, tickling, breathing, listening once
again for that soft sound of new secretions... and when, at last I
hear it, I press my lips full-on against your sex, kissing as the
French, plunging my tongue deep within you, voraciously tasting, feeding
hungrily on your passion, feeling the aching push against my face
as you seek to take my tongue in deeper... meanwhile, my fingers begin
to dance around your outer lips, seeking for yet-undiscovered erogeneity
Nothing breaks the perfection of the moment I feel your touch upon
me, the slow slide of your hands down my soft thighs. gentle urging
of your hands parting and opening my most intimate areas to your heated
gaze, your touch, your taste of me is filled with a hunger that matches
mine... my body rises as if pulled by strings to meet your tongue
I can't control myself...
I know only that my need is greater than anything I have known before...
I close my eyes and feel my heart pound so wild and excited I fear
it will rupture... My lips part with sighs and cries never have passed
thru them before...
Twisting under your expertly darting tongue... feeling every slide
and suckle... your fingers slip along my wetness increasing my arousal
with the soft stroking... tantalizing passes across my swollen clit...
my body shudders with each light caress... my hands are twisting
in the straw...
You ride your mouth upon my mound like driftwood upon a sea... never
leaving me always keeping close over and over you lap at my shores...
waves of pleasure gently rise higher and higher to a place I am almost
afraid to go... but there is no stopping... you won't allow me to
rest... you continue to work your tongue with passion... fully exploring
all my nooks and crannies until I am sobbing in my physical need so
powerful words cannot express anymore...
Between your soft yet strong legs, my lips and tongue moving lightly,
caressing, licking, kissing your dewy lips, coating my tongue with
your juices... pushing your legs back a little further, exposing more
of you to my eyes, I lick in a straight line down between your lips... I
stop for a moment at that ridge dividing your pussy from your arse-hole,
and lick lightly from left to right and back again along that thin
bridge... moving down, I now circle your little rosebud, dancing around
the rim, occasionally pressing the tip of my tongue directly in the
center, which causes you to gasp, to sigh, to push against me... moving
back up again, between your lips, I land safely at your clitoris,
and there, I camp...
taking the base of your clitoris GENTLY between my teeth, I begin
to lick across the tip, sucking gently as I do... while I accomplish
this, my fingers are moving inward, tickling around the outside of
your pussy, coating the fingertips with your precious fluid, slowly,
gently penetrating with one long finger... taking nearly a full minute
from the initial touch to the full penetration, feeling your muscles
grip me, aching to pull me in deeper, feeling you buck against me,
your moans now decidedly audible, echoing in our little stall...