Holy Water

Lily spread her legs wider, her groin slowly approaching Charlie's mouth. His hands pressed softly into the base of her spine, guiding her. "There. Stop." He raised his head and kissed her lips. Then he did it again, his mouth opening and his tongue reaching out, tasting her salty tang.

Lily bucked and shuddered under his loving touch. She raised herself up on her elbows, groaning. "By the Great River," she moaned. "That is incredible. So good. Now, a little higher, my love. Higher. No, the other way," she said, her voice slightly impatient. "Yes. That's it. There. Right there." Trying to ignore the soft sweeps of his tongue on her slit, she opened her own mouth and took his cock into her, slowly letting more and more of its beautiful length fill her mouth. At the same time, she slowly rolled her hips, guiding her lover to the place where she felt the most pleasure. She concentrated on the throbbing nodule, willing it out of its protective hood. Closer. Closer. So close. Ahhh!

Her mouth closed as a bolt of pleasure pierced her. At the same time a muffled, painful protest emerged at the junction of her thighs. With a pang of guilt, she realized her teeth had closed painfully on Charlie's shaft. "Sorry," she gasped, removing it from her mouth and stroking it softly in apology.

"That's all right," he replied. At least that's what she thought he said. His words were rather delightfully confusing, but his hands were soft and gentle on the trembling flesh of her thighs. She laid her head down on his legs and gave in to pure sensation as his wonderful tongue pleasured her. In moments, he had slipped his hands down to her chest, and her breasts filled his palms. She cooed delightedly as he rolled her taut nipples between his clever fingers.

His tongue danced on her nubbin, knowing without words how to please her. Inside, she felt her climax approaching. His mouth opened and she experienced new heights of ecstasy as he drew her clitoris into his hot mouth, suckling on it gently. Close. So close.

No!

With an effort which was almost painful, she rolled off of Charlie. He stared at her, blinking in the sudden light, and she had to muffle a giggle, thinking of some nocturnal creature which had been dragged unwillingly into the sun.

She rolled over onto her back, her knees raised high, her thighs a welcoming cradle. She spread her legs for her lover. Grasping his hand, she drew him down to her.

"Together, Charles," she said softly. "This time it will be together. Take me. Claim me. I am yours." Her hand found his shaft and pulled at it until the head was poised at her gate. "Now!" she demanded.

Charlie's unworldly control finally broke. He sank his hands into her raven-black hair, kissing her hard and deep. Gone was the gentle, compassionate lover. In his place was a shining example of muscular, male virility, and she whimpered in pleasure as he drove his mighty phallus into her welcoming sheath. Over and over and over again he thrust into her, her groin on fire, and her hands clutched at his shoulders.

Charlie couldn't believe how much he desired Lily. If their first trial at lovemaking by the river had been a gentle discovery of the joys of sex, this was a passionate embrace of that joy. Lily's legs wrapped around him, her heels digging into the back of his thighs, urging him onward. Her hips rose up to meet his cock on every stroke, and he could feel her inner sheath clutching at his burning rod. He dipped his head into the hollow of her shoulder, his tongue licking at the sweaty, salty skin of her neck. "So hot," he murmured. "So wet. I love you, Lily." He felt the rising tide of his orgasm sweep over him. His balls drew close to his body, swelling with seed.

His climax hit him like a thunderbolt. With a shout, he came, a white-hot arc of pleasure as he poured torrents of his seed into his lover. At the same time Lily's back arched under him, and he clamped his mouth around a turgid nipple, suckling on it like a child as she screamed her own delight into his ear. Her sheath gripped his cock like a glove of pure desire. He drove into her over and over, until the last wracking shudders had been forced from his body.

With a groan, he collapsed onto her, rolling to his side to spare her his weight. She smiled at him through sweaty strands of hair. "Thank you," she whispered.

He caught her hand and drew it to his lips. "No, Lilaea. Thank you. You saved me. While I was away. I would have gone mad if I hadn't had your memory to cherish. It was like water in a desert."

She smoothed his hair back from his forehead, the color so like her own. "Tell me," she said softly.

So he did.

"You know," Charlie said lazily, later that night, as his hand drifted over the delightfully brown curve of her rear. "We're going to have to introduce you to my family at some point."

Lilaea sat suddenly upright, clutching the quilt to her chest. "Charlie! No!"

He brought her in close in a loving embrace. Dropping his head to lay a loving kiss on her shoulder, he asked, "Why are you afraid, love? They are my family. They love me. I love you. They will love you as well." He grinned at her confusion. "It's the transitive property at work."

She scowled at his teasing. "They don't even believe I am real."

"And whose fault is that?" he demanded with a grin. "I asked you to show yourself to Maggie and Mama, and you refused. You thought it was funny."

"And so am I repaid for my arrogance," she sighed mournfully. "When?"

"Tomorrow's Saturday," he replied. "Back when my father was alive," he said steadily, "before I left for the war like a damn fool, we would have a big meal here at the house on Saturday evenings. Maggie and Carl would come in from town. Mama would cook for all of us, and we would sit around the table and talk until it was time for Carl and Maggie to go home, and for the rest of us to go to bed."

"I don't know how to cook," she said sadly.

"You'll learn," he said, stroking her shoulder. "I'll teach you. Or my mother can. If she won't, I'll hire someone who will." She leaned into his touch. "You are an extraordinary person, Lilaea," he continued softly. "I can't imagine you not doing something you set out to do." Leaning over her, he turned down the wick in the oil lamp he had lit a short time before. The room was plunged into darkness. Slipping under the cool cotton sheets, he drew Lily into his arms.

"Sleep, love," he said softly.

In a few minutes, the only sound in the room was that of two bodies, breathing as one.

"The boy is moving too fast," Edith said crankily. She held her purse in both hands as the automobile bounced up the rutted track to the farm. "He doesn't have a cook yet. Or a housekeeper."

"One woman could do both jobs," Maggie said mildly from her seat beside Carl.

"He's presumptuous," Edith stated from the back. "Inviting us all for Saturday dinner, as if he is the head of the family. What can the boy be thinking?"

"Maybe he's thinking it's easier for us to drive here than it is for him to hitch up the horses and drive into town. Especially after all that fuss with Mal and the dam," Maggie said, a trifle impatiently. "For goodness' sake, Mama. He's been home for less than a week and you're already finding fault."

Fortunately, conversation broke off as Carl pulled into the dooryard. The three of them climbed out of the car and made their way to the front door. "Anyone home?" called Maggie as they walked inside.

"Come on in!" came a shout from the kitchen. Charlie poked his head around the door. "You're just in time. The table is all set. Go on into the dining room and make yourselves at home."

They walked into the dining room and sat down. Edith took the foot of the table. She eyed the settings warily.

Five places set. Who could be the fifth? One of Charlie's friends from town? Or a farmer girl from next door? Her agile mind ticked over the available choices, but couldn't settle on a candidate. She set her lips. If it's a girl, she's going to need my approval before she gets her hooks into my boy.

Charlie bustled into the room, a basket of fried chicken in one hand, a plate of biscuits in the other. He set them down beside a pot of green beans flavored with pieces of bacon and another of buttered squash. He waved them into their seats. "Please, sit down," he said.

Edith sat. Maggie and Carl had, she noted with a sense of satisfaction, noticed the extra seat. "Are we waiting for someone else, Charlie?" Maggie asked.

Charlie smiled and Edith tensed. It was the same grin he had worn after he had been on a camping trip for three days without telling anyone. The same smile he had when he came back from town and told them he had joined the army.

"No, Mama, we aren't. She's already here."

Edith's eyes narrowed. Only she caught the twitch of Charlie's fingers as he motioned to someone out of her line of sight.

Through the doorway to the front hall stepped a woman of extraordinary beauty. Her black hair fell unbound down her back, stopping only a few inches above her waist. She was clad in a dress which seemed to be made of flowers. The lavender petals clung to her high, firm bust and slender waist before dropping in sheer folds to her ankles. Her dark eyes were keen and bright, and Charles looked at her with a gaze of undisguised adoration.

Edith's sharp eyes were the only ones which noticed that the strange woman was barefoot, and left a trail of wet footprints on the wooden floor.

"Mama, Margaret, Carl," said Charlie, as Edith surged to her feet, her spine straight with mortified surprise. "This is Lilaea. You might remember her as my 'imaginary' friend Lily. I love her and have asked her to be my wife.

"This morning, she said yes.

"Shit! Catch her!"

Maggie was just in time to cushion Edith's fall as she slumped to the floor in a dead faint.

"Well, that could have gone worse," Charlie said mildly as the automobile drove out of sight. They were standing on the porch, golden twilight all around them.

"How?" asked Lily bitterly. "Your mother would barely look at me. Even after she came back to her senses."

Charlie pursed his lips. "That's true," he admitted. "But you have to understand Mama. She's a little overprotective of her children." His lips quirked at an old memory. "She didn't say a single word to Carl the first four times Maggie brought him over for dinner. It drove poor Maggie to distraction. The first time Mama asked Carl to pass the butter I thought Maggie was going to laugh out loud, she was so happy."

Lily snorted, and plucked at her dress. "Why do your people wear these things?" she asked irritably, changing the subject. "It's not cold. You don't need them to keep warm. It makes much more sense to only wear them when you need to."

"It's a custom," Charlie replied, drawing her inside. Sensing her fear, he held her close. She felt stiff and cold in his arms.

"Shhh," he whispered into her hair as she finally relaxed into his embrace. "It will all work out. Just wait. Besides," he told her with the lopsided smile which made her weak at the knees, "I haven't mentioned the most wonderful thing about clothes."

"Which is?" she asked suspiciously.

"Taking them off."

"Oh!" she said, her eyes going wide. "That would be an incentive to wear them, wouldn't it? How clever! To hide what you most desire, to whet the appetite."

"And are you hungry, my love?"

"Starving," she replied. She leaned her head into Charlie's chest. She could feel his strong arms around her, slowly pulling her dress up. As the hem passed her waist, his warm hands rested on the curves of her rear.

"Wicked girl," he whispered into her ear, his breath hot and secret. "To come to the dinner table without wearing underwear. My mother would be scandalized." His fingers drifted into the cleft of her buttocks, making her wet and eager. She shivered helplessly, her body unable to do anything other than prepare itself for lovemaking.

He raised her dress above her breasts, and paused, his head reaching forward to anoint both of her breasts with his hot mouth and loving tongue. She shivered as her nipples tightened.

Charlie bent forward, his cock a throbbing bar in his trousers. He slowly massaged Lilaea's exquisite breasts in his hands, delighting, as always, in the sounds of pleasure coming from above. He took the thick nub of her wine-dark nipple into his mouth, drawing on it like a nursing child. For a moment, he released her breasts, seeking to lift the delicate fabric of her dress over her head. The garment resisted him, and he let her nipple fall from his mouth with a frustrated groan.

"Lily, my love. Your clothes are a wonder and a delight to me. But would it be asking too much for you to wear dresses that are easier to take off? With buttons, maybe? I'm always worried that I'm going to rip them."

"And why is that a problem, my strong man?" she purred, rubbing her bouncing globes against the soft cotton of his second-best shirt. "If you rend my garment to pieces in your desire to strip me naked, can I not make another one?"

Charlie grinned as he caught the thread of her thought. His hands bunched in the softly woven petals of her dress. With a quick rip he tore it down the front, from throat to hem. Petals drifted to the floor, marking the air with their delicate scent.

Lily gasped, her eyes dilated with desire. "So strong," she murmured, setting a hand on Charlie's chest, lust boiling in her belly. "A mighty warrior, come to claim me as spoils.

"Take me to your bed, my splendid man. Make me yours."

In response Charlie's hands cupped her buttocks. With an easy motion he lifted her off her feet. In response, she curled her legs around his waist and her arms around his back. She laid tongue-wet kisses against his throat as he carried her to their bedroom.

Stooping slightly, he dropped her on the bed. In an instant she had scurried to the headboard. She leaned against the bank of snow-white pillows, her legs spread wide. Her hands cupped her sex, opening her nether lips, letting him see her damp channel, wet for him. Her eyes laughed as he tore at his clothes, desperate to be as naked as she.

With a triumphant shout, he kicked off his underwear and leaped onto the bed. Climbing between her welcoming legs, he sank low, cupping her face in his hands as he slowly devoured her mouth in a kiss. Even lower, his cock brushed her belly, making both of them tremble in their passion for each other.

"How do you want me tonight, my love?" she whispered, when their lips finally parted. "With me on my back?" She writhed on the cool quilt. "Or from behind, perhaps?" She flipped onto her stomach, her rear waggling invitingly, raised high in the air. "You can take me as a stallion takes his mare. Or maybe you want me on top, as we did the first time we made love." With a push, she sent him to his back. His eyes grinned up at her, their corners crinkling, and her heart nearly broke for love of him. "Or this time I could lay on my side, my lusty man." She turned, one leg hooked by her arm, her channel an open invitation.

"Enough," he said. He opened his arms, and she crawled into his embrace. His hand ran down her side. Shoulder, arm, the dip of her waist, the graceful curve of her hips. With hard-won wisdom, the hand traveled back up the length of her inner thigh, a clever finger working its way into her soaking cleft, making her writhe in ecstatic delight. "It matters nothing to me in which position we make love. Only that my Lily is the woman who shares my bed.

"But I do enjoy," he continued, "seeing your face. And your breasts make my hands happy."

"Very well," she said, with a lugubrious sigh. "As usual, the woman has to do the work." She knelt over her lover, allowing her cleft, slick with desire, to rest against his pulsing rod. As always, the feel of his glorious sex against her lips brought her to the knife-edge of passion. It was all she could do to stop herself from impaling her body on his cock and bringing them both to swift, violent release.

No, she breathed. Control. You must have control. With a delicate motion, she allowed Charlie's cock to wedge itself between her throbbing folds. Anointing him with the oils of her body, she slowly rose and fell on his shaft, the feel of him driving her wild with pleasure.

Beneath Lily, Charlie groaned. No matter how many times they made love (and Charlie himself suspected they had broken several records over the last twenty-four hours) the feel of Lily's nether lips on his most sensitive parts was excruciatingly pleasurable. In an effort to distract himself and to keep from spending too soon, he rested his hands on Lily's shoulderblades, slowly drawing her chest down to where he could reach her spectacular breasts with his mouth. Cradling one of them in his hands, he kissed his way around her nipple, then sucked on the sensitive tip, his tongue delicately lashing the turgid bud. At the same time, his other hand stroked its twin, his fingers slowly caressing the skin from its base to the pebbled areola.

Above him, Lily drew herself up to the top of his rod, then paused. A soft breeze drifted through the open window, cooling his inflamed cock. Lily's hips rocked minutely, circling his head with tiny motions, her secret opening only a hairsbreath away. Charlie knew the swollen head of her clitoris was rubbing on the spongy tip of his shaft, and that Lily found the sensation incredibly pleasurable. He brought his head up from her breasts and looked into her loving eyes, watching as her gaze grew unfocused, drawing inward, intent on her own immense pleasure.

Wordlessly, she nodded, then canted her hips, opening to him, taking him within her. She slid down his steely length until their groins were molded together, their fluids mingling. She paused for only the merest fraction of a second, then rose again, spearing her fertile channel with his potent rod. She sank down onto him, her sweat-slick chest crushed to his, even as her hips rose and fell. Her lips found his, her mouth opened, and her sweet, loving tongue invaded his mouth, frantic with lust and desire.

Wordlessly, they wrapped themselves around each other. His arms around her back, hers around his shoulders. His legs around her buttocks, forcing her onto his cock harder and harder and harder, my beautiful Lily, for the love of God, harder, her knees clamped tight around his hips, forbidding his escape, even if he had been lunatic enough to try. Their mouths on each other, tongues and lips and saliva mingling, until they truly could not tell where one of them ended and the other began.

Charlie felt his orgasm approach like an earthquake. He could not warn Lilaea. He could only groan into her mouth as his cock filled, then abruptly emptied itself into his lover in a series of mind-shattering bursts. At the same time, Lily felt his scalding seed hit the walls of her womb. The knowledge that her lover had again proven his desire for her sent her into a spiraling, mind-blowing orgasm of her own, unmatched in its intensity.

She slumped to Charlie's chest, panting. Her thighs clamped around his slowly-softening phallus, forbidding its escape. With a motion which was half-will, half magic, she pulled the quilt over them, then turned off the lamp with a thought.

"Lily," Charlie said softly in the darkness. "Do you mean to keep my cock in you all night?"

"Like a cork in a bottle, my love," she said softly. "It will keep your seed from escaping and help give us a child."

Charlie laughed until his sides ached, and his wife-to-be joined him.

Chapter Six

October 24, 1919

"It's not natural," Edith Schuler insisted. "None of it."