Crimson and Ivory

The girls could not argue with their mother, since they had no experience with angels nor did they have much experience with men. They did their chores and tended to their mother's needs.

As time moved forward, Crimson and Ivory spent many days and nights exploring the passion that their mother had told them they had discovered. Neither girl had seen the white dressed angle, though they had both been searching him out. Eventually they resigned themselves to never seeing him again.

When winter came, their mother had stoked the fire so that the whole cottage was warm and inviting. The wind beat at the windows and shook the door. She asked Ivory to get up and secure the door by bolting it. Just as young Ivory was placing the bolt over the door, a great wind shook the house and the door was thrown open.

Ivory gasped, jumping back from shock, but also fear. Standing at the threshold was a beast the size of a bear. Crimson grabbed her mother and shoved her behind her, while reaching for something to protect themselves. Ivory scurried back, then stopped when the beast spoke.

"Please, don't be afraid. I am just looking for shelter."

Ivory turned and Crimson stared suspiciously at the creature. Her mother came out from the protective barrier her daughter had tried to create. "Come in from the storm, child," the old woman said. "Take off your coat and boots. Sit by the fire and warm yourself."

Both the girls stared at their mother as if she'd sprouted a second head.

The creature stepped in and did as their mother had told it to do. Once the coat was gone and the boots removed, the beast stood up and thanked the old woman. Without the bulky clothing and the heavy boots, the girls were able to see that the beast was not a wild animal, but was indeed a man.

Crimson stared at the man, curious if he was the same angel they had seen earlier that year. When he removed his hat, her shoulders fell in disappointment. His hair was thick and brown, where the angel, as their mother called him, had thick golden locks that shone as bright as the sun.

Ivory chewed nervously on her lower lip as the man sat down in front of the fire and began to warm his chilled fingers and toes. She glanced at her sister who had not moved from the place she'd sought refuge. So Ivory went to her side. "Who is he?" she asked. Her sister only shrugged.

"Ivory, go and get our guest something warm to eat and Crimson pour him some hot tea," their mother was saying as the two girls stood quietly off to the side.

The girls again hurried to do their mother's bidding, while their mother took a seat at her rocker. "Are you lost, child?" the old woman asked.

The man smiled up at her and chuckled. "I am far from a child, old woman," he said.

"But you are much younger than I, so that makes you a child. Now, what has forced you to seek shelter from the storm in our meager dwelling?"

"I was traveling with a group and I became separated when taking care of my personal needs. The storm swept over us and I lost my way back to the others. I stumbled for a long time in the woods, but then I saw a bright light coming from this part of the forest, so I hurried toward it."

"And your name?" Ivory asked after handing the man a large bowl of thick stew.

"My name is Grant," he said, before thanking her and accepting the food. Their fingers touched and Ivory stepped back, causing the soup to slosh against the man's fingers.

"I am so sorry," she said as she grabbed the edge of her apron and tried to wipe away the spilled juices that lay upon his hands.

"It's quite alright. There is no harm done."

Ivory smiled, lowered her gaze and stepped back as her sister came forth and offered the man some tea. When Crimson went back to claim the chair she'd been sitting in prior to the man's arrival, Ivory took a seat closer to her mother, which was also closer to the man.

Grant ate his meal and made little conversation with the woman and her daughters. He had come across the cottage and had thanked the gods for his good fortune, and when he had seen the beauty within the log home he had thanked the gods again. The old woman was sweet and kind. Her daughters were stunning and seemed innocent and pure.

He could not help but notice the girl with the long white hair seemed to hover on his every movement and for a moment he thought perhaps it was because she feared what he would do to them. It came as a surprise to realize that her expression was one more of curiosity than fear. The other daughter, the redheaded one, seemed indifferent to his presence and had in fact gone back to her embroidery once she'd delivered the tea.

When he finished his meal, he began to rise and was stopped by the daughter with the white hair. "Let me," she said, taking the bowl and mug. He thanked her and watched her walk away, before turning his attentions to the mother. "Mistress, how long have you and your daughters lived out here?"

"I have lived here for many years, and my daughters' -- eighteen. They are twins, though Crimson likes to claim she is the eldest."

"Because I am," Crimson replied.

"By only two minutes," Ivory countered.

The old woman laughed, and the man grinned.

"Are you from these parts?" the old woman asked. "You must forgive my ignorance. I only go into the village when it is absolutely necessary and the girls have only been there a handful of times. We are quite alone out here," she looked to her daughters and sighed, "something that I believe has stifled my daughters' growth."

Grant cocked his head to one side. He saw the innocence in the two girls' eyes and understood what the woman said. The sisters seemed to innocent for their years. He had come from a land where the daughters were brought up in the ways of motherhood and wifely duties. They knew how to please a man and to be ignorant of pleasure often meant you lacked the skills to make a good lover or companion. He could not believe that the girls before him would be anything but good lovers and companions. They had a beauty that reached far beyond their outward appearance.

"Sir, are you from around these parts?" the old woman was asking again.

Grant cleared his head. "My apologies. I was lost in thought. No, Mistress. I am not. I heard that my brother was missing and so I, along with several of my father's men came here in hopes of finding him."

"Your brother?" Ivory and Crimson both asked.

Grant could not help but notice the tone of their question. "Yes, have you seen him? He has hair the color of straw."

Crimson sat up and gave all her attention to Grant. "Is he tall and wears white, thinner than you, with chiseled features and a wide smile that lights up the world around you?"

Ivory's eyes widened at the description her sister gave and her mother's lips rose in a smile. Grant's mouth formed a smirk, but he answered her question. "I do not know. I have not seen my brother since he was a small child. There was a great war in my land and my father feared our deaths, so he separated us. I remained at home, being the eldest it was my job to remain on our lands and learn how to be a leader. My brother was sent away to a distant land, and raised by my mother's people. We received word last year that he was missing and so as soon as I felt the peace my father had worked hard to establish before his death was secure I gathered men and left my mother and father in hopes to find Richard."

"Richard." The name fell softly from Crimson's lips. "It is a fitting name for one such as he."

"Then you have seen him?" Grant asked, spinning around and rising to take a seat next to Crimson.

Ivory watched as their guest hung on every word her sister spoke. Her brow furrowed in confusion at the feelings of fear that rolled through her belly. As Crimson explained who and what she saw, Ivory for the first time in her life found herself comparing herself to her sister. She took note of the bright color of her sister's hair and how the sun had kissed her sister's skin, leaving cute little pale dots -- freckles her mother had called them. She had never received one freckle, something that had never concerned her until now.

"Mother, why do I not have freckles?" she suddenly asked.

Her mother turned her head and stared at Ivory. "Freckles? What brings this question up?"

"Well, Crimson has them, and my skin is far more fair than hers, so why does the sun not kiss my skin as it does hers?"

The old woman eyed her daughter with a questioning expression, before looking over at Crimson, who was in deep conversation with their guest. She sighed and shook her head, then gave her attention back to Ivory. "I cannot answer that. The sun picks and chooses who it will touch. Your skin grows pink during the summer, but something keeps the sun from burning you and leaving his touch upon your flesh. Though I am your mother, I do not know everything."

Ivory frowned. "I wish I had freckles," she whispered, "and bright hair."

"Your hair is beautiful as is your skin," her mother said.

"Your mother speaks the truth," a husky male voice said.

Ivory turned toward the one that had agreed with her mother. Grant's eyes were upon her and Ivory felt a warmth spread over her body. Her skin grew warm and her tongue darted out nervously to moisten her lips. "Thank-you," she whispered.

Their mother cleared her throat and told the girls it was time for bed. The two daughters rose and kissed their mother goodnight, and wished the same pleasant greeting to Grant. Crimson led the way down the hall to her and her sister's room, where as Ivory loitered behind, moving slowly as if each step took all her energy. Her gaze shifted from her mother, to the stranger and back again as she tried to find excuses to remain in the room with them. Her mother lifted a knowing brow and waved her daughter away. Ivory sighed, but quickened her step until she was tucked behind the door of the bedroom.

The two sisters disrobed and climbed into bed together. It was the same bed they had shared for years and like so many nights before they remained awake readying themselves to talk about their day. Tonight though was different. Ivory wished to talk about Grant and Crimson wished to talk about Richard.

"He is our age!" Crimson was saying while Ivory was trying to think of where Grant would be sleeping.

"He'll probably sleep on the rug in front of the fire," Ivory whispered.

"He is not a King, but a Prince and from what his brother knows he has not yet wed. Was I too forward to ask such a question?" Crimson whispered.

"I hope he's warm enough. Perhaps I should check on him. No mother would be angry. Oh, but I do not want him cold and perhaps he will roll over and get to close to the fire and burn!" Ivory sat up and threw back her covers.

"Where are you going?" Crimson asked, suddenly aware that her sister had not been listening to her, but just as quickly she realized she'd not been listening to Ivory either.

"I am going to check on Grant. I fear he may roll over in the night and catch fire."

"It makes sense to check on him. His brother protected us from the cliff, you should protect him from the fire. Go and watch over him. Mother will be fast asleep in her room and even if she were not she would not want harm to come to our guest."

"Are you sure, Crimson. If I go then I cannot find passion with you tonight."

Crimson smiled. "It is okay. I will seek passion alone this night. I believe I will imagine Richard and his manhood, though I am not sure what one looks like on a man."

Ivory kissed her sister goodnight, grabbed a wrap and slipped it on. She tied it around the waist and left their room. She tip-toed past her mother's room, down the hall and into the room where the fire blazed. There on the floor was Grant. Her mother had provided him with pillows and blankets. The former he had comfortably stacked under his head, while the latter he had flung off his body. The heat of the burning logs had made him plenty warm, as did his proximity to the flames. Ivory stared quietly at the figure and noticed that his body moved while he slept. "He must be dreaming," she whispered to herself.

He had one hand resting behind his head, while the other moved up and down against his groin. He grunted and growled as he slept and Ivory wondered if his dream was more of a nightmare. She slowly moved closer, hoping to determine by the expression on his face if he needed woken from a demon possessed sleep.

When she was a few feet away, his hand seemed to move faster and faster against his groin. Her brow furrowed in confusion as the glow from the fire caste light on flesh that was hidden in his fist. A thick portion of skin would pop out of his grip and then disappear as he pumped his hand up and down. The sounds from his throat began to grow deeper and his breath came faster. Ivory's lips were assaulted by her teeth as she fretted over what to do for Grant. The noises he made seemed inhuman and his face was tightening and he looked pained.

"I can't let him suffer," she said and then reached out and grabbed his pumping fist and placed her other hand on his chest. "Grant! Grant! Wake up, you are having a bad dream!"

Grant had been lost in his imagination and for a second the warm soft hand on his cock had become part of his fantasy. It was not until the pressure on his chest and the frightened words from a young girl interrupted his dreams that he opened his eyes and realized who had interrupted his self-pleasuring.

He stared up into the worried and fearful expression of Ivory. Her hand was wrapped around his fist, which was still wrapped around his hard shaft. The urge to move his hand and let her replace it was great, but he was very much aware of her purity. Her mother and he had spoken and he had given his word that he would not deflower either daughter. But he had also promised to seek young Ivory out when he returned with his brother. The old woman had given him permission and had left him to his own devices.

He had imagined the beautiful white haired goddess covering his cock with her lips and sucking hungrily upon his sensitive balls. He had seen her riding on top of his sex and her breasts bounced, while her nipples arched and begged for his lips. Now there she was staring down at him and her fingers were resting just at the edge of his cock head.

"Are you okay?" Ivory whispered.

Grant groaned and cleared his throat. "I am fine, Ivory. You can let go of my hand and I will put my cock away."

Ivory looked down and studied the pink flesh that poked out of his fist. Her fingers were near it and for a moment she wondered what it felt like. "What is a cock?" she asked, before reluctantly pulling her hand away.

Grant eyed her suspiciously then he recalled what her mother had said,"We are quite alone out here...something that I believe has stifled my daughters' growth". His cock was hard and heavy in his hand. He sat up and showed it to Ivory. "This is a cock," he whispered. "It is what all men have."

Ivory's eyes widened. "It is your manhood! Your dangling part. But what of your velvet sack. Mother said men have a manhood and a velvet sack."

Grant groaned and his cock jerked.

"It jumped!" Ivory whispered excitedly. She reached out to touch it and Grant pushed her hand away. She looked hurt, but allowed her hand to fall to her lap. "I'm sorry."

Instantly Grant regretted his actions, for they had made her sad. "No, Ivory, don't be sorry. I am sorry. Your mother warned me that you are innocent and that my wooing of you would take time. You may touch it if you wish."

Ivory bit on her lower lip, while reaching out to brush her fingers against the top of his manhood. All the while Grant told himself that he would not deflower the virgin and that her innocence would only be mildly altered by their conversation and her exploration of his sex.

"And you call it a cock? Not a manhood?" Ivory was saying as her fingers brushed down the full length of his rod.

Grant closed his eyes and then took another calming breath before opening them. "Yes, though it has many names. Cock is just one of them, as is manhood."

"It jumps again," she giggled. "Why does it do that? And what other names?"

"It does that because it is excited. It enjoys your presence and your touch." He cleared his throat again, an action he felt was going to become a habit before Ivory returned to her bed. "As far as names, there is rod, dick, member, tool, penis, snake, impaler, intruder -- oh Miss Ivory, the list goes on and on."

"And the velvet sack? I do not see yours. Do you not have one?"

Grant chuckled. "Mine is still tucked within my britches. I only eased out my manhood," he said, opting to use a term she was more familiar with.

"And may I see that?"

He licked his lips, reached into his pants and pulled out his testicles. When she timidly touched the skin, he moaned softly.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"No Ivory, again it is only pleasure I am feeling."

"Good, for I would hate to hurt you Grant." She cupped the velvet sack and found two small spheres. When she squeezed them Grant hissed.

"Not too hard. They are very sensitive and frighten easily."

"Oh, I am sorry." She quickly bent down and kissed the flesh she'd squeezed.

Grant grabbed her hair and pulled her back. "Ivory! Why did you do that?"

She grabbed his wrist and winced from the pressure on her scalp. Instantly Grant realized what he had done and released her. He tucked his balls and cock back into his pants, before looking back at Ivory. Tears shone in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and began to rise. Grant grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

"Oh Ivory, it is I that again must apologize. I have never met one so innocent and pure as you. You are like a child, but your body is all woman. But my sweet lady, why did you kiss my balls?"

"Your balls? Oh, your velvet sack. Another odd name, I assume."

"Yes, again there are too many to name. Please answer my question."

Ivory turned her head to one side. "It was simple. I caused you pain and so I kissed it away. I only hoped to make you feel better. I am sorry if I failed."

"You did not fail. You made me feel wonderful."

Ivory felt her cheeks warm. "That makes me very happy. Would you like to take it out again?" she asked.

Grant heard the hope in her voice, but he knew that if he gave in to what they both wanted it would be very hard to keep his promise to her mother. "I believe I should keep it locked away for now. But as I said before, I wish to woo you and your mother has given me permission. So perhaps if you find me pleasing, you will see it again."

"I am not sure what this wooing is, but I am glad mother approves, for I do wish to see it again and kiss it as well. Mother did tell Crimson and I that men like to have their manhood and velvet sack licked and touched. If that is true, I would hope to do that for you."

Grant's cock jumped inside his trousers. "Yes, it is true. Men do like that and I hope you do that for me to." He took a deep breath. "You need to return to bed Ivory."

"Alright," she stood up and then stopped. "Grant, might I kiss you goodnight. I have recently discovered a way to find a sliver of passion when kissing and I would like to share that with you."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "You may kiss me, but who did you discover this passion with?"

"With Crimson," she explained.

Grant nodded his head. "I see," he said. He waited for what he assumed would be a soft peck on the cheek, or on the lips. What he was given was not only pressure on his mouth from Ivory, but her tongue sliding along the closed seam of his lips. He obligingly parted his lips and felt her tongue slide along side his. This was not what he expected, but he allowed Ivory to tease his tongue with hers and soon his hands were buried in her hair and he was deepening the kiss. He heard her moan and whimper against his onslaught and when he pulled away she was left breathless as was he. "Do you kiss Crimson like that?" he asked with a thick husky tone to his voice.