by Unknown
The stallion, having demolished the lower half of the stable door and jumped the rails and was currently following her mare in a tight circle, nipping her rump, swinging in front of her when the mare turned to run; mounting her sideways and swinging her round with his forelegs. All this accompanied by high pitched whinnies, the virgin mare’s squeals, Bacchus’s snickering and the pounding of their hooves around the yard.
Her favourite mare, reared from a foal was in heat for the first time. Abigail had planned on mating her with Sergeant’s black stallion. Too late now. Despite Bacchus’s best efforts she was leading him a merry dance; appearing frightened by the experience. The stallion’s penis, fully extended, its knob huge and dripping, stood out under his belly, reaching toward his forelegs it wavered slightly as the stallion reared and whinnied.
She sucked in a breath for there, he had her, locked in his forelegs, his teeth clamped at the base of her mane, his shaft searching.
“Lucky devil isn’t he.” Archie wrapped his arms around her shoulder and hugged her.
She couldn’t answer. Her limbs had turned to jelly, her gaze fixed on the lustful congress before them, her heart wishing Archie would pursue her like this, instead of all the verbal banter they continually indulged in.
“I’ve put Hyde’s shoulder in a sling and sent him off with the apprentice groom. Told them to take him into the village and get him checked out by the physician there – and not to come back until this evening.” He blew into her curls, causing strands of hair to fall over her forehead, then nibbled her ear. “Plus I told them to make sure the rest of the staff went with them. I even told them to take the buggy and old Bess to pull it.”
“You are full of orders for my staff. I’m surprised they agreed.”
“They’re not silly, Abigail. Its fair day, they want to go. Plus it’s not their place to state the obvious – that you and I will be alone.”
She nodded to the horses. “Can we leave them?” She wanted to, yet couldn’t bear to leave the excitement. “This mare was booked to be covered by another stallion.”
“Too late now.”
“Will they be safe together?”
He laughed, his hand edging a little higher to stroke the side of her breast. She shrugged her shawl higher, crossing it over her breasts. Could he see her nipples pushing the silk of her blouse, responding to his caress like soldiers snapping to attention?
“Of course they’ll be safe. My sire knows what he’s doing and isn’t likely to leave her until he’s replete. Mind you, your mare could be a bit sore by the time he stops.”
The stallion had mounted briefly then pulled out, his cock still hard, his ardour still strong and the two horses began their courtship dance again.
“I don’t think they should have all the fun, do you?”Archie swept her up in his arms and she locked her arms around his neck. He kissed the top of her head as she inhaled his scent, burying her nose into his silk cravat. She truly hoped all the staff had left. She could imagine the gossip in the servant’s hall if anyone witnessed their unseemly rush to the house. With long strides he carried her through the garden. Her hat, its ribbons now tied to her arm, became victim to a passing rose. She pointed, “My hat.”
“Damn your hat.”
“But the staff will see it tangled there.”
He stood her up, grabbed the hat, jammed it on his head and swept her up again. She giggled.
“It suits you, Archie. Would you like to borrow it?”
“Minx.” He paused and catching her unawares, he slung her over his shoulder with a swift toss, knocking the hat askew on his head. She found herself looking at the heels of Archie’s riding boots leaving indentations in the lawn, soft underfoot from recent rain. She must have put on more weight than she’d imagined. Her ribs ached from being pressed on his shoulder. “Archie, please, I can walk.”
“But you might run away and this way I have you held tight.” His breath came in heavy draughts. “Besides, we’re nearly there.”
Thank God for that. She hadn’t felt this unladylike for fifteen years. Once inside she’d take him to the library and get out the whisky. She needed to take control of the situation. Calm herself down, regain some ladylike composure and take things a little slower. Going slowly had never been one of Archie’s strong points but he owed her an apology and she intended getting it.
The heavy oak door clicked shut, closing off the horses’ mating chorus. Archie stood her down and wrapped her in his arms. His scent, mixed with that of horse sweat, completely undid her resolve. Apologies were unnecessary. His lips, soft and warm, covered hers. His tongue sought to twine with hers and his erection pressed hard against her thigh.
Just as she began to run out of air he released her and murmured in her ear. “Fifteen years I’ve waited for this, Abigail. You went off to France and married that silly frog.” She opened her mouth to protest, to say her parents had insisted, but he laid his finger against her lips. “Sshh. Yes, you did. I missed my chance to marry you then and as sorry as I am for your loss and grief, I’m not letting you get away again.”
She wanted to say it hadn’t been a happy marriage. She thought of adding that her Frenchman had been the opposite from most Frenchmen’s reputation for romance. In the end she didn’t say anything. What did it matter now?
Standing under the vaulted ceiling, the chandelier casting rainbows against the wood panelled walls she admired Archie. The sun shining through the high lead-light windows put a halo around his head, illuminating the ends of his red curls. How lucky of him to have such a head of hair, still. So many men were balding by their mid thirties. Further thoughts were stopped as his lips covered hers once more and their tongues danced.
When the kissing stopped she took his hand and pulled him after her, running up the wide curving staircase to the next floor and the privacy of her bedroom. As nervous as a virgin, she trembled like her little mare had done, standing in front of the man she’d first loved, then lost through foolish behaviour. They’d kissed and fumbled as teenagers and been seen by her mother; glimpsed through the mist they thought had hid them. A hastily arranged holiday in France had followed, where she met Louis. His exciting courtship and their marriage with the machinations of the French Court to master, had driven Archie from of her mind. That was until he rode up the drive one moon ago, entering her heart again like a lantern lighting a dark room.
It seemed odd to be starting again, yet her heart told her to grab the moment.
“Cold?” Archie said. Her nervous tremors being misunderstood as he held her hands, turning them over and kissing her palms.
Not trusting her voice, wanting to squeal with excitement too, she swallowed and shook her head. She began to undo her buttons.
“Let me.” He stilled her hand. “I want to undress you, like peeling the layers from a special gift.”
He had such a funny turn of phrase, like no one else she knew.
“Don’t move.”
She watched him sit on her low bedroom chair, its sturdy short legs holding his weight, as he hauled off his riding boots. Then he shed his top layers, tossing them over the chair back before he stepped out of his lamb suede breaches, which pooled at his feet like melted butter. He shook them and added them to the pile.
His body retained the contours of youth. His torso wrapped with smooth muscles, their curves obvious in the sunlight; wide shoulders and narrow hips. Then a new feature caught her attention. A triangle of red hair now dressed his chest. It trailed down, narrowing in a shiny ribbon over his belly, pointing the way to his standing cock. Now unrestrained it stood glorious and firm.
She averted her eyes, wondering if he felt her stare. Outside the window the branches of the old oak waved at her, the leaves no doubt whispering their shock at her wanton behaviour. The same tree Archie used to climb, throwing acorns on the glass and beckoning her out on moonlit nights. Innocent escapades, they thought. Secret night-time rides, un-chaperoned picnics, shy glimpses of each other’s bo
dy. Youngsters excited by the adult world they were approaching.
Her mind returned to the present as Archie undressed her with gentle strokes and dancing kisses. He undid the ribbons on her neckline and caressed the sides of her breasts before he cupped them and lifted them to sit on his hands like two soft melons.
“So beautiful.” He kissed each mound, released them and pushed the sleeves of her blouse down her arms. She had to help. Desire frizzed through her. Her labia tingled, her cervix ached. Her tight limbs softened. The heat between her thighs increased and her nectar dampened the lips of her pussy.
She cursed the mother-of-pearl buttons on the front of her blouse, then removed her corset and threw both onto the side table, followed by her shift. Archie had pulled down her skirt and petticoats and was untying the ribboned waist of her pantaloons. She stepped out of them and stood before him, naked and proud, aware of her waist, un-stretched by child bearing, nipped in below breasts firm enough to curve upward. Her erect nipples ached as he ran his hands over her hips to cup her buttocks.
“Don’t make me wait any longer, Archie. I’m ready.”
“But I want to admire you. This has been my dream. I need to run my hands over your skin, to feel you respond to my fingers while I inhale your scent.” He cupped her breasts and kissed a nipple, swirling his tongue around the dark circle, only to suck for a second. She flinched at the sensation, sharp yet delicious.
He walked her backward to sit on the edge of the bed. Kneeling he began at her ankles and licked his way up each leg to her knees. Her fingers locked in his hair, her toes curling with anticipation as he then licked her from knee to inner thigh, pausing at the apex to inhale. She wanted his tongue to caress her clit and she pulled at his curls.
Louis had refused her this pleasure; another way of punishing her.
“Patience,” Archie murmured “there’s no hurry. We have all afternoon.”
She moaned and he chuckled and resumed his task, tasting her heat, teasing with his tongue and then withdrawing. She thought she might scream with frustration and just when she’d decided to take control he lifted her legs over his shoulders laying her back on the bed. His mouth covered her pussy, his tongue probing, his lips sucking, his tongue stroking. The outside world ceased to exist. Only his touch mattered. He slid two fingers tilting them until she groaned. He pressed in time to his tongue’s caresses.
She shook, the tremors raking up her spine and into her head. Colours filled her mind and exploded as her clit tingled as if turning inside out, and her juices ran. She cried out in delight. This is what she’d been missing. It mustn’t stop. A delicious warmth filled her being and the noises she made sounded guttural, animal in origin, yet she couldn’t help the sounds. They rose from deep in her neglected soul to sing with joy and passion.
And now her clit was super sensitive to Archie’s touch as he swung her around, putting a pillow under her, all the time his finger stroking her heat. She wanted him there, not his fingers, and she pushed his hand away. “You,” she whispered. “All of you – in me – now.”
He reared over her, love softening his face, his eyes half closed, the fine lines above his cheeks telling of his age.
“Please, Archie, now.”
He slid in, filling her. Supported by his hands so as not to crush her breasts he began the slow pulsing drive, sliding deep, nudging her cervix, withdrawing until his cock’s tip kissed her entrance, and pushing slowly in again.
“Are you teasing me?” Her voice sounded ragged, unused.
“I am, but not for long. I’m enjoying myself.” He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose and she watched his face as he increased speed. He whispered ‘my beautiful Abby’ and she wrapped her legs around his hips, rising to meet each thrust until he came, shuddering and gasping, joy lighting his face.
He eased from her and slid down to lay on her breasts. She stroked his head, wondering why they’d taken so long to reach this point in their life. So many wasted years. A marriage that had promised so much had turned sour and cold. To be rewarded now with Archie’s love seemed like a miracle.
How could she have even thought of cutting him down to size when he stood her up the other night?
A man with this much passion – and patience, had to be a man worth having. She discarded the ‘lover’ tag and ticked the ‘husband’ box in her mind. This decision made, she turned her full attention to rewarding and returning his desire.
She eased out from under him. He lay as if his limbs were made of water, his arm floppy as she moved it aside. In her dressing room she poured water from the jug into the china bowl, grabbed a fresh cloth and returned to the bed where she rolled him onto his back.
“What are you up to now?” His voice husky with spent lust.
“Hush. Don’t ask questions.”
She bathed him and dried his face, chest and penis, leaving them sweet smelling from the rosewater soap. She returned the bowl, did her own ablutions and returned to lie beside him, one arm under him, her other free to caress him, their breath mingling.
“What are you going to do with your inheritance?”
She’d been fretting for months, trying to decide.
“My childhood is here. Good memories before my parents died and it became part of my dowry – so Louis claimed.” Her voice cracked. “What was mine was also his.”
She was grateful for Archie’s silence.
“This house has some bad memories of my marriage, yet in the early days we had some wonderful times here, before the details of Louis’ philandering trickled back to me.”
“No doubt delivered in hushed whispers, by the simpering members of the Court of France when they visited.”
“Quite.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m torn. It’s mine as Louis’ widow. I could sell it and spend the proceeds on foolish ventures, which is what his brother Pierre is expecting me to do. It’ll be a year next month since Louis broke his neck in a fall while hunting fox; no doubt showing off his equestrian skills to the ladies.”
She must give up these bitter comments.
She cupped his warm balls, massaging them gently. He moaned and his cock stirred. “Are you tempting me again?” he said.
“Only if you’re willing. I’m just expressing my love for you.”
“Love you say? Am I delirious? Is my brain addled from sex?”
She withdrew her hand and stroked his chest, locking her fingers in the red threads and tugging. “Careful, I have you in my power.” Then she walked her fingers slowing down the silky trail, fascinated at the path it took to his cock. By now his desire had stood his cock to attention.
She pulled her arm from under him and knelt by his hips. She wrapped the firm shaft with her lips, flicking her tongue over its tip, the foreskin pulled back to reveal the smooth surface and red slit. Hearing Archie’s moans of delight gave her a sense of achievement. Louis never expressed his excitement and their lovemaking had become a silent exchange of physical responses. Not so with Archie.
She took him deeper into her mouth and sucked, feeling him harden further. Satisfied with the strength of his cock she straddled him, raising her hips to hover over him, moving to caress him with her clit. He groaned. Dipping gently, covering him, then withdrawing, she teased until finally she plunged, taking him deep inside, contracting her muscles as she slid back and forth, her nectar wetting them both.
Guessing he might climax she lifted her buttocks and moved forward, blessing him with her scent and taste. When satisfied he gently pushed her back and she took him again, riding him with speed, until he shuddered, arching his back and shouting. She sat, impaled on him, knowing she’d be sore tomorrow but not caring a wit. This was sex as it should be. She giggled as she felt his cock shrink, its timid movements tickling inside her.
“Enough?” she said.
“More than enough, but I could be tempted later.”
“There will be no later.” She looked through with window, noticing the afternoon sun
low over top of the far beech trees. “The staff will be home soon and we must be on our best behaviour.”
“Do you think you will fool them?”
“Perhaps not, but I will pretend we have been having small cakes in the conservatory.” She lifted herself off him and stood by the bed, her hand out. “Come, we have to wash again and dress. Then continue to pretend we are just friends.”
“And I have to get my horse. He’s probably as sated as I am.” He cupped his ear. “Listen.”
“I don’t hear anything.”
“Neither do I. Your virgin mare has worn him out. Do you give them lessons?”
“You’re as cheeky as ever, Archie St. John, but I do love you.” She ran her finger along his jaw line and caressed his lips.
“Tomorrow I shall arrive with a strong proposal for you to consider. After we marry you can do what you wish with this property. It’s yours. But, it would be mighty handy should we have a son.”
Her joy collapsed, smothered by the black cloud of failure. Her eyes filled. He may not want her when he heard what she had to say.
“I’m barren,” she whispered. “Louis and I never conceived. If you are looking for children you should look elsewhere.”
He leapt off the bed, grasping her shoulders, fixing her with his beautiful eyes. “We must marry, soon, because I am sure you will conceive, especially if we continue to frolic at this rate.”
“Didn’t you hear me, Archie? I’m barren.”
Anger flushed his face and a spark of temper lit his eyes. She pulled back, then watched sadness soften his features. “The bastard let you carry the burden did he?”
She nodded. The familiar wash of failure hit her. It had no place in this afternoon of joy and love.
He reached and wrapped her in a tight embrace and kissed her gently. Finally he released her lips and spoke. “My darling girl, ‘tis common knowledge among men that Louis was infertile.”
