Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 11

"Damn the woman!"

Parvinder sat on a bench in the Woodlander's forest camp, gazing at a pink sunset over the trees beyond the meadow. Casti handed her a cup of herbal tea and sat next to her. There was no need to ask who had angered the old Indian woman.

"Sorry. I'm irritable at the moment," Parvinder added.

No wonder. Annela was nine-months pregnant and, as the senior nurse of the Woodlanders, Parvinder was expected to ensure the survival of mother and baby; but she had never delivered a baby. Births had always occurred at the Cloner City. And, as Annela got more impatient to be delivered, Parvinder (normally so mild and amicable) got more anxious. It would be worse in two months' time when her own daughter, Dipti, was due.

"It's quite pardonable," Casti assured her. "Why don't you tell me what Mirselene has done?"

"I tried once more to get her to send Annela to the Cloners for the birth. I said that, now we're friendly with the Herders, they'll surely offer us transport. I can't bear the thought that there might be a complication and we'll be unable to contend with it through inexperience and lack of equipment. Now it is too late: the girl won't be able to travel."

"So what did Mirselene say?"

"Our chief, in her wisdom, said she trusted me. Fat lot of good trusting me will do if things go wrong."

"But nothing went wrong when others of us gave birth."

"Please allow me to worry and fret, Casti. It won't be you holding the forceps - ugly big wooden forceps that I made myself, by the way, better used for digging turnips."

Casti smiled.

"What reason did Mirselene give?"

"She has no reason."

"Really?"

"All right. She asked, What if it's a boy?"

"And you said?"

Parvinder paused.

"I said: What if it refuses to come out and Annela dies? ... Who cares what sex the child is, so long as Annela survives? But Mirselene thinks the Cloners will steal the baby and keep it for themselves if it's a boy."

"She is quite fearful of their power."

"She's paranoid! The Cloners may be greedy but they're not kidnappers. Why would they want to steal him?"

"But, as you say, it's too late now. It's not safe moving Annela when she's so nearly due."

"I know," Parvinder calmed down. "As I said, I'm irritable at the moment."

"Are you right to worry so much?"

"Probably not; but Mirselene is so nonchalant it sets me off. ... All right. I've done complaining. Let's drink our tea."

They sat in silence and tried not to worry.

As the pink sun settled down for the night, the preparations for the feast went on around them. Soon Casti and Parvinder joined the bustling women and took up useful tasks themselves.

It was the second night after Ezra returned to the Woodlanders and he'd had no time to himself since he stepped foot back in the camp. There was Mirselene to report back to first, then Annela to comfort, his other bedmates to show how much he'd missed them and everyone else to entertain and amuse with his stories.

A big event the first day was when Ezra showed his pen-knife to the tribe, after which Sharne, Dagma and he agreed on a program of repairs and improvements. There was also his salvage project to begin. The Woodlanders had collected the bamboo and other items he asked for. Soon he could set to work.

The first night, he told the story of his visit to the Mariners. The second night, he said what happened with the Herders. The women wouldn't let him leave out a single detail but badgered him for all the juicy bits. Thus he discovered an unexpected prudishness in the Woodlanders when they were shocked by the immorality of the Herders; how they fought among themselves, and their nightly orgies. He got laughed at for letting Solange test him; but they were pleased he'd secured forgiveness for Wildchild and Tamar.

It didn't matter how embarrassing it was to describe everything he'd done. He was home now, among family, and later on they would remember only that the Woodlander man was a hit with the other tribes.

He slept alone his first two nights in the camp, enjoying the peace and solitude, though he spent as much time as he could with Annela, who was uncomfortable and sensitive. Her pregnancy seemed to be going on forever. It was more than nine months already. Everyone reassured her that the first child was often late, so she had more frustrating waiting to do. Annela didn't find it reassuring at all.

"I just want it out of me!" she wailed.

They were alone together, sitting in the sun outside her hut. She sipped obediently at a cup of tea that Parvinder had made for her.

"Pyoo!" she said, spitting something out.

"What is it?"

"Raspberry leaf. She's gotten me eating garlic, radish and anything spicy she can find, even bark. And I'm waddling to the crapper every hour. It's your fault! You did this to me!"

"I'm sorry, darling, but it's not for long."

"Easy for you to say. ... Tell me something to take my mind off it."

"Actually, you can tell me something. What has Urulla planned for us?"

"I don't know. Nothing, I think. I know she made a fuss when it was Dipti's turn to be your bedmate but I don't think she wants a fuss herself. I expect Mirselene will just announce it and that'll be that."

Mirselene did announce it at the feast that night - and that was that: Urulla and Ezra were bedmates for the rest of the month. Quietly joyful, the girl kept her distance from him until the end of the feast, savouring her expectation.

Just before the rain started, he went to claim Urulla from her lover, Dipti, and they walked hand-in-hand to the Honeymoon Lodge, where they settled in, lighting the oil lamps.

They sat together on the bed and looked at each other. Urulla was very nearly twenty; tall, lithe, with light-blue eyes, mousy-brown hair, small pert breasts, slim hips and long thin legs that didn't meet at the top. Her face had a strong-jawed horsiness but there was beauty in her intelligent eyes, which looked out at the world with focussed curiosity.

He admired her intelligence but this night was about sex and what he most looked forward to was taking the skinny girl from behind. He imagined with relish the sight of her small firm buttocks, smooth thighs and pink juicy inviting slit.

One of his greatest fans since the moment he appeared in the Woodlander Camp, Urulla became his most devoted questioner on sexual matters. No one looked forward to sex with him more strongly than she. No one had such high expectations. Sex with Ezra would be the acme of joy and happiness.

Then came the conflict at the meeting-place when Urulla was stabbed, followed by a long recovery and, just when she was ready again for the supreme moment, Ezra went away for two months. She pined and lusted and built up such a store of longing that she thought she'd explode. All this pent-up desire was to be released tonight. How could it not be perfect?

It couldn't be perfect, even if Ezra were at the top of his game, because nothing could live up to the romantic girl's vivid imagination. For Urulla, love was a petal-strewn garden of delights, a world of butterflies and rainbows. Unreal hopes made her unusually hesitant and shy.

She wanted to talk about love and poetry but she became tongue-tied. Her mouth seized up and she stammered. Ezra took over and kissed her. She responded warmly and began to relax; but then she went the other way and started to gabble, her words coming out too fast and in the wrong order. She wanted to say what she felt, what she thought he felt, what she really wanted him to feel but couldn't find the words for.

He stopped her mouth with another kiss and started from there, quickly undressing her, hands roaming, exploring, with intimate touches and kisses, He thought he was giving the fraught girl what she really wanted, settling her down, taking charge. It didn't work. He was too quick, too eager.

Urulla had only ever had sex before with Annela and Dipti, who made love gently and slowly, with soft caresses and whispered endearments. By contrast, Ezra was bold and silent. He also seemed thoughtless. He began fingering her before she felt ready. Her moans encouraged him when they were meant to discourage. Her nipples were sensitive. They hurt when he sucked her tits. She liked when he kissed her thighs but he moved too quickly onto her pussy. He seemed impatient and unable to 'read' her.

She tried to respond in the right way to his kisses and touches but, contrary to what Dipti had told her, or what she had dreamed of for nine months, Urulla's first time with Ezra was an uncomfortable disappointment.

As she knelt on all fours on the edge of the bed, her pert bottom exposed to the night air, skinny legs spread wide, he had the joy of seeing her from behind, bent over and naked, a sight that was exactly as beautiful and arousing as he expected. He stood behind her and pushed his hard cock against her slit.

Holding her by the waist, he gruffly asked "Are you ready?" It was the only words he'd spoken since they first sat on the bed.

She pulled away.

"No, I'm not ready! Not at all!"

She sounded angry. She got off the bed, grabbed a cloak to use against the cold and stormed out of the hut, starting on the path back to the camp.

"Where are you going, Urulla? Please stop? Tell me what I did wrong?" he called out from the veranda.

It was the first time a night with a new bedmate had gone awry.

Urulla stopped under a tree at the edge of the clearing. Sheets of rain crashed around her. She thought for a minute. Was she being hasty and unreasonable? Was she over-reacting? It was her choice not to put on a show as she had for Dipti, to wear the one good dress the Woodlanders owned, to come to him like an angel, bathed in perfumes and flame.

"Urulla, please come back? Talk to me," he pleaded.

"Go on in, Ezra. I'll join you, but I need some time to think. Please go in."

"All right. I'll be inside."

Three times she rehearsed what she wanted to say and when she was sure of her words, she took a deep breath and went back.

He was inside, dressed, sitting on the side of the bed. He rose.

"It's my fault," he started.

"Shush! I want to speak," she said. "It's not your fault. ... I should have planned more. Dipti wanted me to but I said 'No'. I told her I didn't want anything artificial or contrived. I didn't need to dress up or have a special feast. I just needed to be alone with you, as I dreamed, as I'd yearned for months. It would be beautiful. Just you and me."

"I'm so sorry, Urulla."

She had spoken all this with her eyes closed, concentrating, fighting her urge to clam up or run away.

"It's all right. We can start over; but I want you to woo me, to make me feel happy and wanted, to make me think I'm the only woman in the world for you. I know it's not real but it will feel real to me."

He stood by her and took her hand.

"I do want you, Urulla, and it is real. Come and sit down."

She did so and he put an arm around her.

"It is my fault. I've had it too easy for too long, even before I came to Samothea, when I had no time for romance - for talking poetic nonsense to women. I've become even more lazy and taciturn in the last month."

This was true. Too much easy sex with the Herders had left him jaded. At the end of his stay, during their orgies, all he did was lie back with an erection and the women did all the rest.

"I know I should have said more," he went on, "to tell you how I feel about you. How much I like and admire you. I thought you could see it in my actions ... but how could you?"

She turned to face him, the heavy cloth opening to reveal her naked thighs and waist. She smiled.

"Is romance really 'talking poetic nonsense to women?'" she asked.

"No, not really. At least, poetry isn't nonsense. Do you like poems?"

"I love poems. Do you know any?"

"I used to know some. I read lots when I was young."

"Tell me a poem."

"I'm not sure I remember any now. It was a long time ago."

"Try to remember one for me ... a love poem."

"Well, I think I know part of one. It was my favourite."

He paused to recall. Then:

"She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies."

"It's lovely!" Urulla said. "Say it again."

He did so, adding:

"I'm sorry, I forget the next two stanzas."

"What does it mean?"

Ezra explained who Lord Byron was and how England was a misty over-cast island, in contrast to southern Europe, with its clear dark skies and its dark-haired and dark-eyed beauties, whose complexion moon-light enhanced so ravishingly. (Then he had to explain what the moon was.)

"Do you know any poems about girls with brown hair and blue eyes," she wondered.

"I'm sorry, I don't."

"What a shame! Well, go on, tell me another."

"Oh, God! My memory's useless. I read them twenty-five years ago."

"Please?"

"All right, I'll try. This is one of Shakespeare's sonnets I learned at school. I know how it starts, anyway:

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:..."

"Er, ... God! It's gone. There's something about tempests and stars, I think, and a sickle. ... Di-dum di-dum di-dum di-dum di-dum. ... I've got it!

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved."

She laughed at his triumphant recall of the last four lines.

"Do we have a marriage of true minds?" she wondered.

"We didn't at first but I think we're getting closer."

She sat in his lap and snuggled close. His arm, holding her firmly, warming and supporting her, did more to turn her on than all the bungled foreplay of an hour ago.

"Go on," she said. "Another."

"I'm not sure I remember any more, but I can tell you the most erotic poet of them all is John Donne. Some of his lines have always stuck with me ..."

Again, a pause, to get it right, then:

"License my roving hands, and let them go

Before, behind, between, above, below.

O my America! my new-found-land ..."

She was happy with this verse, too.

"I understand it. I'm your America, your new-found-land."

She put aside the damp cloak and lay naked on the bed, her arms over her head.

"Your roving hands are licensed," she said. "Let them go!"

He lay on her and they kissed again, but not like before. Slowly, tenderly, his warm hands caressed her thin taut body, taking possession, roving gently over her sensitive nipples, a teasing finger-tip playing along the edge of her rib-cage.

They kissed deeply. She put her hands in his hair and spread her long thin legs, raising her knees to embrace him, opening herself up completely.

Now, as he kissed down her delicate neck to her shoulders, he went slowly, stopping to praise her, to say how beautiful and sexy she was. He kissed her lovely ribs, one by one, over the taut drum of her stomach, moving up to the little hillocks of her tits with their small pink peaks. Sensitive to her response, he briefly allowed himself the delight of sucking her tits but stopped as soon as her gasps hinted at protest.

Now they kissed again: long, slow, passionate kisses, with exploring tongues and a gentle hum in her throat. She wanted to take his weight on her and was pleased to feel her sexual effect on him, as his cock pressed through his trousers onto her bare belly.

He kissed in a straight line down her body, from lips, strong chin, elegant throat, flat chest and tight stomach to her pussy, where he deviated down a thigh to a knee. She was buzzing nicely now, warm and tingling, a pretty blush starting to form on her chest and belly. He kissed back down her thigh and, tantalizingly, by-passed her pussy again to devote attention to her other thigh, with soft warming kisses and the faintest stroke of a finger tip around her pubic mound.

Her heart beat faster and she caught her breath. The blush reached her pussy, reddening her pretty labia. She was ready for more.

Starting slowly, turning his tongue sideways, dipping gently into the open slit, he licked up her pussy to her little hooded clitoris. Then he worked down, passing a flat tongue over her slit, all the time stroking his finger tips over her soft pubic hair.

Sometimes he lifted his mouth from her pussy, letting her relax, yearning to be touched again. Arousal engorged her pussy lips, widening her slit, so when he next tongued her, he pushed deep inside. She let out a moan and held his head to keep it in place.

He licked up and down her slit, dipping into her cleft, working over her clitoris to an accompaniment of encouraging moans and sighs. He sucked her clit into his mouth and flicked it hard with his tongue. This made her writhe, arching her back. He repeated the soft licking and the hard clit-attack until she reached a peak.

"Oh, God!" she exclaimed as she came. "Oh, God, Ezra! More, please more!"

Of course, he obeyed, pushing a finger into her tight twat and diddling her sensitive spot as he continued to suck on her clit. It wasn't long before she came again, a deeper, richer spasm, rippling along her pussy, bunching her stomach muscles. She held him tightly, squeezing his head with her thighs, beating out the slowly-releasing tension with thrusts of her pelvis.

She lay still for a minute. Then he lifted her up. She was very light and squealed out a laugh as he man-handled her, turning her so she was bent over, her bottom sticking in the air. The position was perfect: her legs spread apart, tight buttocks framing a thinly bearded pussy, matted with her creamy arousal. He stuffed his face between her buttocks and renewed his tongue-attack on her tiny pink clitoris.

She moaned deeply, shutting her eyes and breathing heavily. More damp lust collected in her pussy as the strain built. She bucked involuntarily, slowly swivelling her bottom, supporting herself on her outstretched arms.

She felt movement. He was undressing, taking off his trousers. Then there was a gap while he removed his shirt. Now he was back, his mouth on her yearning pussy, tongue squelching over the soft wet folds, licking figures on her clitoris.

There was another shift and her legs were lifted off the bed, her thighs hooked over his shoulders. She was hanging down his body. His cock stood proudly out, hot and hard, brushing against her cheek. Her response was almost instinctive. Holding the back of his thighs, she pulled her head up and swallowed his cock into her mouth.

She sucked more greedily than elegantly but soon got an erotic rhythm going, building his tension nicely. Firm hands on her waist held her tightly. The blood started settling in her brain, blocking her thoughts, spreading a more complex kind of feeling to her nerves. Her stimulation heightened and she headed to another joyful peak. She shook when she came and neglected his cock.

He laid her down on the bed and turned her on her back. Lying on her, he brushed the hair off her face to kiss her. She smiled as he lay on her and lined his cock up with her slit. She lifted her knees to show him she was ready.

He took her hands and they intertwined their fingers. Then he pushed his cock into her and began thrusting. She felt pressure in her throat and a warmth all over her body. She naturally began to buck to meet his thrusts, with low-pitched throaty moans. He thrust harder. As the pitch of her moans rose, he increased the speed of his fucking. With all the stimulation, she wasn't far off cumming again.

He maintained a steady pace now as she breathed and moaned more quickly, squeezing his hands tightly as the tension rose. She instinctively raised her knees to get a better angle of penetration. There was a strain in her thighs and in her calves. She liked the feeling of restraint, of his weight and his grip on her hands.