Once upon a time in a land of white sandy beaches and deep dark forests, there lived a fair maiden by the name of Priscilla Prendergast.
Priscilla, or Prissy for short, was well past the opportune time for securing a husband of either fortune or good looks. She worked all day in her Father's tavern serving the townspeople and the many visitors to the Region. A Region famed for its wondrous springs of healthy long life.
The lusty young men of the village were ever wary when closeted close to the maiden Prissy, for her sire was well-known to be most harsh with those scallions employing loose hands on her personage. Thus, poor Prissy was fated to be devoid of spouse and deprived of sensuous intimacies with the opposite gender.
The young maiden was pitied by both the married ladies of the village and by the sexually promiscuous young maidens who worked beside her serving ale to the randy males drinking with abandon in the lively tavern.
She was comely of face and shapely of figure with long tresses of Golden Red hair. Her breasts were full and heavy with sensual promise. Her bottom was the plumpest and most delectable of all the young serving wenches. Many the young lad that desired a glimpse of her cuny to see if it was covered with the same exciting tinted golden red bush.
Prissy was doomed to relieve her yearnings with her own long, delicate fingers in her bed by herself. She whimpered and tossed many a nite trying to reach her special spot and the liquidy release that make her smile.
One busy nite into the tavern strode a young master.
He was fair of skin, fair of face, and fair of silky textured hair. No beard, no scars, no defects had he. The maids were all a twitter, their bosoms were lowered, their tresses primped nicely. Even a swing to the hip was to naught for the handsome young stranger.
When Prissy lay close, the young man grabbed lustily at her never touched ass. The look on her face was most delightful. At last, she was being attended to by a horny young lad.
Her Father, thank goodness, was away in the kitchen.
Little Prissy was pulled in repose onto the stranger's lap.
Her ass cheeks were spread apart in a trice and she felt the reminder of the gentleman's lust. Her face was contorted and she trembled with desire.
Soft hands on her nipples twisted so divinely
A whisper in her ear said, "My room at midnight and don't be tardy".
She scurried away in disarray with heart pumping hard.
Prissy lay with much impatience, waiting for the clock to strike twelve. She moved to the room with both silence and with fear. A soft scratch was all she could manage, but the stranger did hear clearly. Her silence was most seemly, her soft whimper most certainly not.