Celtic Mist Ch. 08

Under Declan's unswerving covert gaze, Aoife proceeded to vigorously wash the rest of her body, starting with her arms, then moving up to her armpits, shoulders, neck, and face. As her soapy palms circled over her breasts and her fingers stroked the hardened buds, Declan could not suppress a sigh. The modest, round hillocks overfilled her small hands, but would be perfectly enclosed within his own large paws...oh God! If only! He squeezed his cockstand through his breeches.

She shivered in the chill, and her hands traveled over her belly, flanks, and lower back...then soaped down her legs to her feet and back up. At last, she turned her attention to her privates. Declan watched agog as she rubbed the wee patch of cunny tendrils into a white froth...then saw her hand slide between her legs...back and forth her sudsy fingers moved. Holy fire! Was it his imagination --- was her finger dawdling at the front...or was she simply treating her clitoris to a most thorough cleansing with her eyes closed?

He groaned aloud and began to rub the throbbing pillar under his clothes.

All at once, Aoife's eyes opened, and she ceased the washing of her cunny. Her shoulders slowly lifted as if she were heaving a deep sigh, and her eyes darted about the surroundings with a guilty expression...hesitating in his direction when a bird fluttered out from the boughs above his head.

She re-lathered her hands, then reached behind her. Although she was facing outwards from the falls, Declan could tell from the position and movements of her arm that she was washing her bottom. Several times more did she apply soap to her palm and reach back, her arm in small motions jogging up and down as she tended to her most secret opening.

Now fully covered in sliding soap suds, Aoife set the soap upon a rock to the side and stepped directly under the waterfall. With her head tilted back, she turned this way and that in the streaming water, lifting her arms and legs to rinse herself, casting intermittent sprays of water outwards. Her breasts bounced most lasciviously in the beating flow.

Declan was overwhelmed by a rush of sensations...as if the waterfall had taken possession of his body...his eyes brimming with joy, his heart pounding, his cock nigh bursting. The lovely faery maiden Aoife stood in all her naked, wet splendor in the tumbling curtain of water, surrounded by Nature's bounty...with white, violet, and pink petaled flowers blooming among the mossy rocks framing the falls.

It seemed too rare and beautiful to be true --- and yet, as real as anything, Declan felt the soft bed of needles under his knees, smelt the pine, and heard the buzz of a honeybee hovering among the flowers in front of his face. But for good measure, he pinched himself sharply --- and was overjoyed to still find himself in this woodland paradise with Aoife. If only he were not illicitly observing her!

She rotated now in the waterfall, bending forward from the waist and reaching back to spread her bottom cheeks to take the deluge upon her cunny and bottom hole. Alas, notwithstanding the fact that her arse was towards him, the rushing water hid that which Declan longed to see. When she straightened and stepped to the side, out from under the falls, it seemed that her bath had come to an end.

For a moment she stood, seeming to hesitate as she considered the flowing column next to her...then she edged back into it, angling her hips forward. 'Twas not long ere Declan guessed in astonishment at her purpose: she was apparently tilting her pelvis to and fro to direct the water stream onto the front of her split...upon the magic morsel of pleasure. The ecstatic epiphany then came to him: lasses could frig too!

Her eyes closed and she swayed. Oh sweet Jaysis! If she was going to frig herself with the waterfall, he would be obliged to draw his weapon and join her transports from afar! As he started to unbutton his breeches, she all at once halted her game. Again, her guilty gaze searched the woods round her --- Declan ducked lower, fearful that in his roused state he had leant too far from his cover. Now she cupped her cunny with an unmoving hand and shut her eyes. When they opened, her countenance bore a frustrated expression.

Collecting the soap, she dived back into the pool and swam without tarrying to the side, where she pushed out of the water with her palms upon a low stone --- her clean, rosy-cheeked face was visible a few feet away for a moment before she turned and sat upon the stone with her legs hanging into the water. Declan's eyes traced up from her buttocks on the stone to the graceful line of her spine as she bent forward to squeeze the excess water from her hair.

He crouched lower as she stood and stepped to the rock where she had tossed her garments. Gathering them, she returned to the spot in front of him and knelt, cushioning her knees with the bundle of linen that had bound her breasts. Employing the piece of soap, she swiftly set to washing the lad's clothes in the pool, repeatedly bending forward and straightening as she scrubbed them.

Aoife was but four feet in front of him, separated by only a cluster of flowers! Silently Declan sank down to his belly, his chin propped on his fists. He drank in her nearness.

Kneeling as she was with her back to him, her body seemed like a joyously shaped fiddle --- curving in from her hips to her narrow waist then slanting out to her shoulders. The thick rope of her wet hair formed a gentle S from her neck to her shoulder blades. Declan gingerly parted the stems of the irises to relieve the obstruction to his gaze lower.

Now he could see the pale soles of her feet, with the pinkish accents on her toes and heels and the scattered specks of clinging moss. She was sitting back on her heels at the moment, wringing out the breeches, and her heels pressed prettily into her smooth buttocks.

Picking up the shirt, she shuffled closer to the water on her knees. When she again leant forward to submerge the garment, Declan could scarce contain a gasp of lewd delight. A shaft of sunlight penetrating through the fan of pine needles fell upon her hips and illuminated the grail between her thighs.

Just before him was a most exquisite rear view of her cunny framed by her succulent arse cheeks and bare feet. He could see nigh everything, so he could! He stared with all his eyes. With her thighs together, her little trinket seemed like a furled rose...confirming the flower like impression made upon him by his brief view of Marianne Burke's privates last year. Here in daylight and at a more revealing proximity, Declan rapturously studied the wondrous article.

He now appreciated that there were two sets of petals...an outer pair, softly puffed and scantly sprinkled with bright red hair that was sparkling with water droplets...and a hairless, light rose-colored, inner pair, showing as a two closely apposed pink lines in the middle. These latter lips must correspond to the alluring, glistening butterfly he had seen between Marianne's thighs. Aoife's butterfly, by contrast, sported a more restrained set of wings, which presently were pressed together. Declan moaned inwardly as he imagined stroking and opening those wings with his fingertips to find between them the hidden entrance of heaven.

Try as he might, he was unable to identify her clitoris...but he hadn't a full view of the front of her split.

A buzzing interrupted his reverie --- he saw a bee alight upon the back of her upper thigh, near the junction with her arse cheek. As her hand came back to shoo it away, Declan grinned to himself --- aye bee, he was craving her nectar too! His cock surged as he remembered the taste of her upon his breeches...the sweet, faint tang of a fresh lass. Indeed, the wee fount of said cream was at present but a few feet before him. Oh, 'twas agony to think he might in two seconds crawl forward and put his mouth upon it!

Aoife brushed at the spot where the bee had tickled her, the motion of her hand for the briefest flash spreading her buttock and cunny lips on that side...opening a tiny moist crevice. Only the danger of being discovered restrained Declan from pulling his aching organ out posthaste and stroking it to an eruption of bliss. He could only stare open mouthed at her charms --- first her cunny, then her anus --- both intermittently revealed as she bent forward. All the erotic wonder with which he had first beheld as lass's bottom hole --- Marianne's that night in the looking glass whilst she rode him --- was redoubled by the loveliness of Aoife's.

What a mysterious, beckoning wee orifice it was! There between her bottom cheeks it hid -- the tiny pleats of delicate skin forming a tight circlet --- blushing pink as if shamed by its naked display before a man's eyes. Every so often as she worked, a sliding water droplet tickled it, eliciting a most tempting little squeeze. Declan felt the blood thrumming in his ears as he recalled the sight of Mr. Burke's greased finger stroking in and out of Marianne's clutching arsehole...and how she had spent in squeals of pleasure atop him.

Just when the torment had become unbearable, Declan was granted a momentary reprieve by Aoife rising to her feet. She had washed and wrung out the breeches, shirt, stockings, and swath of linen cloth. With an economy of motion, she rolled up the wet items, tucked them into her knapsack, and proceeded to clothe herself in a spare set of garments from the bag. Over her damp skin, she pulled on a simple, sleeveless, white shift.

With interest he watched her tie round her hips the dagger holster on the leather strap that he had given her last year. Next, she donned a plain black dress, fastening it with pins up the front. She adjusted the skirt on the side with the dagger, and Declan realized that she had made some modification to the gown that allowed her to access the knife from inside the pocket.

With one foot then the other resting upon a stone, unadorned black ribbon garters were tied below her knees to secure a dry pair of cream-colored thread stockings, then she slipped her shoes back on. She crouched and washed the smeared lenses of the spectacles, drying them with the skirt of the gown before putting them on. Lastly, she draped a light brown, coarse woolen shawl over her head and shoulders, covering the wet tresses in which Declan could now see the red beginning to show.

When she slung the bag over her shoulder, Declan panicked and flattened himself upon the ground --- but she departed via the route by which she had entered a few paces downstream, disappearing among the trees.

He waited for a few minutes lest she return, then he scrambled to his feet, jumping over the irises to reach the stone at the edge of the pool. Here he fell to his knees and bent forward to strew kisses upon the lichen covered stone where her cunny, then knees had pressed. Straightening, he yanked open his breeches' flap and drawers to pull out his overheated cock and ballocks in the cool forest air.

His spittle-greased fist moved urgently up and down his engorged organ. In his mind's eye, she was yet kneeling as she had been...whilst he would kneel thus behind her, his spraddled thighs hugging hers...his hands cupping her quivering breasts as his knob stretched those tender pink petals...his hips would slowly arch up as he filled her with his rigid organ...filled her inch by inch as her body trembled under his hands. Then 'twas all panting breaths and rushing water as he thrust into her wee cunny...again and again...their bodies straining together, their moans and sighs intermingling...Aoife!

The crisis rushed upon him and his cock began to jerk --- his groans were lost in the turbulence of the waterfall, and the exuberant pearly salvo spattered the surface of the water before being swept downstream.

* * * * *

The eased state of Declan's body did not linger long. Upon remembering the Militia detachment that had passed on the road, he was possessed by agitated concern for Aoife's safety.

Assuming her to be walking back to Enniscorthy, he fretted to think on her encountering the soldiers when she was dressed as a female. Aye, her garb suggested her to be a more matronly woman --- perhaps her intent --- and he imagined that if she pulled the shawl close about her face, hunched her back, and walked with a halting gait, she might, on casual observation, be taken for a frail granny and thus discourage further interest. The voluminous shawl did shroud her comely blooming form, but 'twould take but one loutish clown to pluck it away and disclose the treasure underneath.

Fewer than ten minutes had elapsed since she had departed. From the stream Declan headed west, striding swiftly through the woods --- seeing no trace of her. He emerged from the trees onto a pasture with clusters of sheep and lambs. Hastening onwards towards higher ground, he gained a fair vantage point over the verdant countryside, and thus identified the road by the double line of greenery covered stone walls a quarter mile to the south. He ran in that direction and took up a quick pace upon the road.

'Twas not long ere he spied Aoife walking ahead of him. Resisting the urge to take a place at her side, he adjusted his speed to keep a distance between them that would guard against her recognizing him yet keep him close enough at hand to lend assistance if needed. He would thus discreetly escort her back to town before reporting to Fleetwood's farm. As other people often traveled the road on foot, he hoped his steady presence behind her would not cause her alarm.

Declan's wistful eyes fastened upon her small figure. He was yet reeling from the discovery that the lass who had beguiled his heart had been right under his nose these past three weeks! What a right fool he had been!

But in his defense, one had to acknowledge the skill of her counterfeit. The ragged clothes and stringy hair were perfectly suited to her role as the hungry, homeless lad, which was further supported by her small, slim body. The liberal smudging of dirt upon her face disguised her feminine beauty, and the ever-smeared spectacles blurred the view of her distinctive pale blue eyes. Not to mention the different hair color!

But in addition to the transformation of her appearance, she had succeeded in mimicking the mannerisms of an unrefined lad --- the restless curiosity, ungoverned feelings, and inelegant enthusiasm of motion. Declan wagered she had grown up with a brother or two to so astutely transform into Michael.

Aoife would of course have recognized him immediately --- but she had played her role to the hilt, showing not the slightest hint of recognition in their exchanges --- a fact that Declan glumly took as evidence of the continuance of her hostility towards him.

In retrospect, he saw how she had maneuvered to reduce his opportunities to fully study the lad Michael. When they conversed, she ever was engrossed in something that kept her face down or averted. On the journey to Wexford town, she had ridden in the back of the wagon, behind him with her face towards the rear, instead of sitting on the wagon seat next to him.

The Wexford mission reminded him of the two lasses they had picked up --- Betsy and Hannah --- and what had transpired. In chagrin he realized that Aoife likely supposed that he had done the same as Jamie Byrne and disappeared with Hannah to engage in a bit of in and out.

He sighed. 'Twas evident that Aoife desired not to be known to him nor to anyone else. Ignorant of her circumstances and what dangers she might be facing, Declan saw now that he must honor her wishes --- no matter how fierce his longing for her. Neither by word nor action must he betray her identity.

Till she indicated otherwise, "Michael" she would be so far as he was concerned.

Cognizant of her recent history, 'twas laughable to suspect that her loyalties could lie anywhere but with the insurgents. She was spying to help the cause of liberty, so she was. What a rare piece of luck that she should turn up in the same town and same company of rebels in which he had landed!

But when he recalled the sight of "Michael" walking up the lane to Blaylock's garrison at Rossnalough Manor, Declan realized 'twas no coincidence at all.

Michael! The Avenging Angel!

Aye! She was after Blaylock too! And she had gotten closer to him than he had!