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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.
She shivered with the unexpected chill of her clammy flesh meeting the air, and her nipples hardened further. She was so delicate against him, her slight bones and tiny mouth pressing against him so eagerly. Her eyes fluttered open for a brief second but quickly closed once more as her tongue slowly prodded towards his mouth.
Bringing his free hand to her hair, he undid the tie that held it in place, letting the thick red mass flow freely down around her shoulders. He plucked at her lips with more kisses, stoking the fires of her loins with his fingers before he pulled back. Looking at her through narrow slits, “Let me lay you back on the grass, Miss Amy,” he said and, without awaiting permission, he slipped his fingers from her to lift her slender body with ease, bringing her to the mat of his jacket and laying her upon her backside with care.
He took a moment to look her over, lifting his two wet fingers to his face and inhaling her scent before licking at her juices with a moan. The flavour of a woman, so long unknown; it was enough to drive him mad.
She watched in partial horror, her body flushing red as she lay before him with her knees bent, and her arms awkwardly resting on her stomach. She felt uncomfortable watching him stare at her, towering over her tiny body, and she shifted under his gaze. Still, her lust for him was burning hot under the surface, and she mentally begged him to cover her once more.
Her hair was splayed around her, creating a red pillow of fine tresses, her slender body arched in yearning for him.
Undoing the buttons of his shirt, she saw the pale hairs upon his hard, lean chest, trailing down across his flat stomach. All the while he longingly gazed at her, his pants straining from the bulge beneath, until finally he came to them. The buckle undone, he began to part the clasps until a thick, veiny shaft emerged. The tip was already partially exposed from rubbing against her through their clothes, and was a dark and glossy purple.
Reaching his hands to her knees, he slid her skirt down to her waist. “I have never wanted something... or someone so much in all my days, beautiful angel,” he stated in his dreamily complimentary voice.
