by Candy Quinn
She didn’t seem overly reassured, but there was something about him that had prevented her from running. She stayed quietly before him, trembling. She looked like such a slight, delicate thing, as though the tiniest breeze might break her. Still, her hands were hard and worn, and there was purpose behind her eyes.
After a few moments of staring at him, she looked back to the direction of her house, then back to him, “Where did you come from?”
Seeing her open up, if only just a bit, he sat himself down on a stone near where she had done the same earlier, taking a casual stance. With his overcoat open, he wore the thick military grade black leather boots on over his tan pants. “From? Well, I’ll confess lil’ lady,” he said pleasantly, “I ain't no woodland elf. No,” he grinned, “I’m from out east a ways. Grew up on a farm myself, if you’d care ta know.” He exuded a casual charm, an ease of getting along with other people, especially women.
She looked towards the east, expertly knowing which direction, before she returned her gaze to him. Tentatively she took a step forward. He was nearly twice her age, charming, and she didn’t know what to make of him. Or the situation.
“Are you going to hurt us?”
At that remark he looked like he’d been struck a physical blow. “Hurt yous?” He exclaimed, “Now why would I go an’ do a thing like that, lil’ lady?!” Shaking his head he rested his hands on each thigh, “No, certainly not. I ain’t the hurtin’ type! If’n I was, I would be out there in the army right now, hurtin’ folks left, right an’ center, an’ getting paid ta do it too!”
With a sigh and a gentle smile he added softly, “No, miss, I don’t like ta see folks hurt.”
She took another step towards him, her hand reaching out for him as her eyes narrowed. She was curious about him, and not altogether sure he was real. It had been so long since she saw another person outside of her family, and the surge of various emotions was confusing her.
Looking back to her, he felt a twinge of excitement as her delicate-seeming hand extended to him. Carefully he lifted his own, reaching out to take hers in a rather gentlemanly fashion. His hands were large and calloused, but he kept the nails clean and short, and when he lifted her hand gently he bent forward to kiss the back of it, his beard tickling it lightly. “Legault, miss. It’s a pleasure ta meet the acquaintance of such a fair an’ lovely lady. I thought for a moment, you was fallen out of the heavens. Up until ya told me ‘bout yer family an’ farm nearby.”
“A--Amy,” she managed out, her own hand rough in his from all of her farm work. She stared down at their grasp, her pulse quickening and her stomach churning in excitement and terror, looking back towards the farm. “I have to catch the fish or I’ll be in trouble.”
“Of course, Miss Amy,” he said cordially, standing and inviting her to resume her seat next to him. “An’ since I’ve held ya up here fer so long, perhaps I might lend a hand with that. It would break my heart,” he declared with a bit of theatrics, though looking quite sincere all the same, “ta see such a precious young beauty get in trouble on my account.”
She blushed bright at his compliment and took a step away from him, her breathing accelerated again. She obviously wasn’t used to being around someone like him, and it kept throwing her off guard. “I...” she trailed off again, giving him a nod, “Okay,” she accepted, though she kept looking at him as she tried to get back to the fishing.
His own rod was a bit of survivalist-crafted wood strapped to his back, but before he put it into use he smiled over to her, “Here, Miss Amy,” he said charmingly. “Let me show ya a trick on how ta hold the rod,” he leaned over towards her, one hand moving over to hers before he paused, “If’n ya don’t mind, I mean. I don’t want ta presume upon a pretty an’ capable farm girl who surely knows plenty a tricks herself already,” he said, complimenting her readily.
She was practically hyperventilating by the time his palm paused above hers, but she didn’t try to retreat from him. She smelled the woods off his clothes and his skin, and her hands shook nervously. Her mouth gaped open and she forced out another ‘okay’.
Months in the woods might normally leave one a smelly, dishevelled mess, but Legault had kept up his appearances and hygiene. Though he exuded a smell of trees and nature, his own personal musk was not unpleasant or pungent. It was a masculine scent to accompany his equally masculine build, and it was most strong as he carefully put his arms around her and onto her trembling hand, very gently guiding her digits into place on the handle of the rod.
“Now here, Miss Amy,” he explained softly, his voice a soothing low thrum near her ear. “Y’hold it like this, an’ pull back...” he simulated the gesture with her, “nice an’ steady while ya cast.” It took all of his willpower to remain so calm in the situation, for his cheek brushed her red ponytail, and he was near giddy with delight at being so close to an actual person, a real woman, once again.
He wasn’t alone. Her eyes were closed and she had stopped paying attention to him the moment his hand touched hers. She even was so bold as to slightly lean back against him, a tiny utterance pushing past her lips. It was hardly anything, but with him so close, it was quite audible. She shivered with the sensation of his body against hers, and was nearly lost in ecstasy before she forced her eyes back open. Only a second had passed, but for her, it seemed so much longer.
He held her in his arms, and he had no desire to ever let her go. He waited in silence, his rough thumb rubbing over her hand gently in a pleasing manner before he managed to conjure words once more. “Do ya see how? I can show ya again,” he murmured into her ear, though his mind and eyes were on anything but fish, looking over her shoulder across her body.
She was such a fair, thin woman, with a very fetching face. She had wide eyes and a brief speckling of freckles over her cheeks and what little was exposed of her shoulders. Her chest rose and fell quickly. “I...” she muttered, unsure of what to say. She was still a bit fearful of him, but more so she was intrigued.
After so many years of loneliness and isolation from all but her family, she craved him more than she knew how to, and his closeness was driving her wild.
Keeping her in his arms, he gave her hand a gentle petting and tugged her closer. She was the picture of a country beauty, he thought, and after a while her lack of an answer struck him. “Are ya okay, Miss Amy?” he asked with concern. Then, with a twinge of hope, he asked, “Are ya cold?” It was a convenient excuse for why his arms were then about her just a bit more than was necessary to show her how to hold the rod.
She took the bait, nodding her head and causing her ponytail to press against his front as she did. She actually felt quite hot, her cheeks and chest flushed underneath the simple, white top. Still, she wanted him to be around her more than anything else she could ever want, and even though it terrified her, she wanted to give in.
Taking the handle from her, he laid her rod down to the side without releasing his hold on her. “My poor Miss Amy,” he lamented in his smooth yet deep voice, “Here.” His overcoat was thick and large; one size fits all for the army. It was bulky on his frame, for though he was tall and strong, he was neither fat nor bulging with muscles. Pulling his arms out of the sleeves he wrapped the coat around her front, so that all that separated them were their cotton shirts.
Situating her inside his overcoat with him, he rubbed his hands along hers and up along her forearm, trying to warm her. “There,” he said confidently, his cheek touching against her hair, “that a bit better?”
Her little breaths betrayed her excitement at the closeness, and she shifted towards him instinctively. She’d never been romantic with another man, and knew none outside her own home, yet there was something that drove her to want to be close to him. To feel him around her, to have him hold her so tightly. It was exciting her in ways she wasn’t yet aware of, and she nodded to his question.
His own heart was beating heavier. She kindled in him desire like he never knew he could feel. It had been so lon
g without any contact. He should have approached her, the whole situation, with more caution, but he wasn’t thinking clearly, and things were moving so fast. He stirred against her, unable to help himself. He was so distracted that he did not realize that his cock was rising against her backside, immediately growing as hard as fresh cut timber. “The Fall is bringin’ in the chill, Miss Amy. Good thing I was here, or else ya might’ve come down with a cold just to catch some fish in the creek,” he said, his voice lower, a charming husk without his even realizing it.
She felt him stir, and while she had no reasonable idea of comparison, she knew it was something strange and different. Something she wasn’t accustomed to or really aware of. She didn’t know whether to pull away, or press herself closer to him, but she felt a similar tingling in her own loins. His voice, his touch, his embrace were all working its magic on her and she hadn’t even figured out what spell it was.
Her silence didn’t seem to bother him, for he could perhaps sense her reaction, or some measure of it. He kept holding her slender frame in his arms, wrapping his own strong limbs across her stomach beneath her bust as he took a deep inhale of her scent from her red hair. His voice was a low, pleasant rumble in her ear, “This is nice.” He paused, swallowing as he throbbed against her. “I ain’t sat an’ enjoyed the sunshine like this in... ever. Least not with such a beautiful lady.”
“Me neither,” she finally managed, surprised by her own voice. She was feeling so hot, she wanted to thrust off the coat, but she couldn’t bring herself to part from him. A bead of sweat ran from the nape of her neck, down her spine until it soaked into her cotton top.
The heat was not lost on him either, and he could feel it building between them as the moments went on. Gradually he nestled his face down along her neck and shoulder, his cheek pressed to hers where cleanly shaved skin met the bristles of his beard. “I’ve been out in these woods alone so long, I forgot what it’s like ta hold someone. Or perhaps I never knew quite what it was like, Miss. Not what it could be like... with a woman such as you,” he confessed. His husky voice laid on the charm thick with his compliments as his hands rested against her hips and stomach over her blouse.
She was inexperienced in such talk, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. Still, she seemed pleased with him, and her thumb gradually ran over of his hand, so lightly it was the barest whisper until she met his knuckle.
Her heart pounded louder. She stroked his hand, her fingertips playing against his skin as she tried to hold back her excitement and nervousness. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she felt so in tune with him. She was an innocent woman, untouched, but she knew what was happening and her body cried out for it. His breathing against the corner of her cheek, the brush of his neck and shoulder against her red ponytail, the feel of his hand against her slim body made her need him. She could feel a foreign tingle between her thighs, and though it wasn’t unpleasant, it was different.
The quiet didn’t trouble him, for he had gone so long without the sound of another human voice that any at all was a sweet feast to him. Holding her so closely, his fingers began to play with the frilled edge of her shirt as he spoke again, no shortage of dialogue to share after so long in silence. “It’s a painful loneliness out here in these woods with nobody else ta comfort you, Miss Amy. A painful loneliness. An’ then you come prancin’ down here like a woodland nymph or some... faerie goddess.”
Swallowing, he brushed his cheek against her again, purposefully this time, his lips parted as if he were about to kiss her thereafter. He forced himself not to. “Tell me, Miss Amy. When ya say family... do ya mean ya got a husband up there? A betrothed by chance?” His deep voice quavered a little there as his thick shaft pulsed against her.
She swallowed, shaking her head ‘no,’ her mind begging him to do all the things she hadn’t words for. She willed him to touch her, high, low, and she pleaded with him inwardly to kiss her. She didn’t make a move for it, though. No matter how much she wanted him to, she remained still as stone, but for the tender stroking of her harsh fingers against his. Still, there were drawings that remained hidden in her motions, of lips, love and secret things she didn’t know.
The warmth of his breath washed over her neck and cheek repeatedly as it grew heavier, his fingers fussing with her blouse until they were brushing against the bare flesh of her stomach beneath, so smooth and milky white. All the while his body responded to her answer with utter joy and excitement, his cock filling to an untold thickness against her. He couldn’t speak for a while thereafter, but his hands continued their work, feeling along the smooth skin of her stomach, the edge of her skirt, daring a little higher to circle her belly button.
His next words were quiet. “Ya must be so lonely up there then, Miss Amy, like me,” he said with a swallow as his parted lips brushed her jaw line. “Do ya think I might kiss you?” He didn’t wait for an answer; his mouth pressed to her jaw and laid a moist little kiss there, the hairs of his chin prickling her neck.
She wanted to scream about how lonely she was, how little affection she enjoyed, how few people were in her life and how there were none as handsome and mindful as him. How she had longed for this before she knew what it was, how she had dreamt of him before she knew he was, but as soon as his lips pressed against her, all was washed away in a groan of pleasure. She shifted back against him and felt his fingers tickle her stomach, creeping higher and higher as she throbbed between her legs.
A trill of excitement traveled up his own spine as she reacted to his kiss so. His arms tightened a bit around her and the loving motion repeated itself, this time flush upon her neck. All the while, as if with a mind of its own, his hand snuck further up her shirt, not quite to her breasts, but oh so near.
He quaked behind her. “You are like sweet nectar itself, Miss Amy. If only I could sup at your skin the day and night through, I would never feel lonely again.”
His words were so kind, yet she nearly regretted him speaking as his lips left her slender stalk of a neck. She was breathing so hard, her heart was beating so fast, he could feel her bodily response with his exploring fingertips. Her nipples began to stiffen, even within the heated confines of the coat. She was so willing, so yielding to his motions, even though she made none of her own.
He could feel the bareness of her flesh beneath that thin garment as his fingertips brushed the underside of a supple breast, and it made him quiver and throb like a schoolboy all over again. “You are so perfect,” he muttered his thoughts reflexively, a thumb prying itself inside the waistband of her skirt. “There is nothin’ beneath the heavens that I would not give ta share with you the ways of love makin’, Miss Amy. So the two a’ us could banish our loneliness to the Dark Pits themselves.” His mouth punctuated his words, against her neck. Soft, moist little kisses moved down then up, until his nose was brushing her earlobe, his hand purposely touching her breast.
She was helpless against him, her back arching as he found her small teat. She was less than a handful of supple flesh, her nipple puckered and excited against his rough palm. She tilted her head away from his mouth, and as she did, a soft moan fell from her. Her little red hairs on the nape of her neck stood upwards with excitement.
There was nothing she could do to hide her eagerness, for she wasn’t experienced enough for that. Nor was she knowledgeable enough to tell him what to do. She just kept trying to will it into being, and so far, it had worked.
Her readiness in the face of his brash advances only egged him on further. At this point, after so much loneliness and longing, it would take abrupt and firm refusal to stall his desire for her, it felt. Cupping and squeezing her breast gently, he revelled in its soft feel and groaned as he its hard tip prodded the center of his palm.
He was so enraptured in her breast that he ignored the dampness of sweat building between them, and dipped his hand inside her skirt. Though his digits shook as he reached for her quim, it wasn’t nervousness that caused it. It was overwhelming des
ire. “Miss Amy,” he pleaded in his husky voice, his lips moving along her cheek, “would you but kiss these lonely lips of mine? Show them what it means ta be loved an’ longed for.”
As he ran his fingertips along her wet seam, she shivered uncontrollably, her chest thrusting into his hand. She was bare under everything, and even though it felt so brazen, for her it was simple practicality. She was so flushed beneath his grasp.
It took her a while before she finally gathered the courage to turn her face towards him, and her eyes remained closed as though this were all a pleasant dream she were having. It was a dream without consequences or dangers, a dream without interruptions and pain. Her religious teachings had been strict, and they always warned that the first time would bring pain. The second promised pleasure. She wanted him so badly and she pressed her lips against his with a strange ferocity for the naïve girl.
Her passionate kiss made his spirits soar. He met it back but a heartbeat later with equal intensity, but surpassing skill, as if in reward for her kiss. Two of his fingers slid betwixt her thighs along the slit of her cunt, coming to rest at her clit, encircling it with a pleasurable tease as his other hand squeezed her teat.
She nearly cried out in pleasure, waves of new, exciting feelings pounding into her body. Her nerves surged with sensations she had never known, and it nearly overwhelmed her. His touch was far more expert than her own, and though she felt her knees buckle even while sitting, she relished the feeling.
Gentle with the untouched young woman, he eased off his petting fingers on her cunny, let her simmer down before he teased her again. His mouth smacked lightly against hers, licking her lower then upper lip. “I want you,” he muttered, and at last, acknowledging the excessive heat beneath his jacket, he removed his hand from her breast and took it off. He tossed it to the grass behind them so that it fell like a large blanket, awaiting picnic goers.
