Thanks Be

Bea followed me in time to catch the towel, fortunately a large one, I had wrenched from a pannier. 'Dry yourself while I get the stove going and a kettle on,' I commanded, resolutely keeping my back to her.

I was very aware of her moving behind me as I made a warming brew. Then she touched me on the shoulder.

'I've tried not to make it too wet,' she said, pushing the towel in my hand.

'Thanks,' I started to roughly dry myself.

My Y-fronts being saturated I had to shed them, still keeping carefully turned away from her. All in vain, for I'd removed most of the moisture and was rubbing my hair when, herself still naked, she moved round in front of me.

Staring down she pointed to the scars running across my flat belly and thighs and asked. 'May I touch?'

What to say? What to do? Taken aback I nodded, 'Yes, it isn't painful.'

Softly, her fingertips lightly fluttering, she pensively traced the puckered skin. Her chest was close to mine and glancing down all I could see were two firm, young breasts, naked and quivering gently in the gloom, inviting attention from my hands. Suddenly my cock was outside my control, standing smartly to attention for the first time since my injury.

'It must have really hurt.'

I tried to keep my voice level. 'Not at once, I was in shock. But later, yes, there were some painful times.'

'What happened?'

'My partner stepped on a land mine and I caught part of the blast.'

'Careless.'

'Yes. I never did understand how he came to do it. Harry was one of those cautious, by the book, guys. The last person you'd expect to make a mistake like that.'

Neither of us said anything for a minute or two while her fingers explored lower and lower. Then she raised her head and look into my eyes, 'What was it you called having sex - "flunking"?'

I swallowed and, my voice an octave higher said, 'No, "fucking" from the verb "to fuck".'

'Ah, yes . . . Well it seems you want to fuck me.'

What could I say? Confused, I coughed, then from somewhere came the realisation that if I wanted to keep her trust only the truth would do. Hesitantly I told her, 'Yes, it would be very nice. If it were allowed.'

'Well, you can if you want to.'

I grit my teeth, 'I mustn't, it would be wrong.'

'Why? You've been kind; you saved me from Father. I think I'd rather you were the one to show me what it's like. You're different and if I'm to be some man's woman then I rather think I want to be your woman.'

One hand had strayed and was tentatively stroking my rigid erection.

'No, I'm too old. Maybe not old enough to be your father, but still too old for you.'

'What has your age got to do with anything. On the farm, we used our prize bull until he was no longer capable.'

She was undermining my resolution. 'But I can't. I told you, I haven't been able to please a woman since I was injured.'

There was a catch in her voice; it was the first time I had refused her anything. 'How do I know? All I've seen are the animals on our farm, and they looked just like you do now. Have you tried? Really tried?' She wrapped her hand firmly around me. 'Come, let me see if I can help you.'

The feel of her fingers was making my cock throb. 'Thank you my dear, but how can you? You've never been with a man.'

'I'm not experienced yet, but you forget I was raised on a farm. I'm hardly ignorant about the birds and the bees. Anyway, the twins used to talk about what Father did to them. Let me see if I can cure you. Please, let's try. I do want to fuck with you.'

I felt a need; a desire; an urgency, to pluck this enchanting young flower, to possess her and make her mine. But I knew it was useless, it wasn't right. Anyway I couldn't. Could I? With an effort I managed a cowardly compromise. 'Wait. Let's think this through. We're wet and cold and in need of food and rest. Maybe later, if we both want it, we can try then.'

I could hear the disappointment in her voice, 'If we must. If you think that is what is right.'

'Yes, I do. Now come, my dear, and help me get organised. We can make a hot broth with the last of the vegetables.'

HOWEVER, I SOON REALISED I was kidding myself. I had been trying not to acknowledge my desire, but it was there in our neglecting to dress again and remaining naked and ready, despite the chill. There in the accidental brushing against each other - in particular her breasts, soft and yielding where they touched my back or roaming hand, inspiring a long-absent, animal need.

All the incidents and odd feelings of the last two days that I had tried to ignore and deny had come together. I was a male aroused by the magic of this female. My injuries finally permitting, I was going to kiss and caress those divine breasts that brushed past me, was going to enjoy the enchanted land between her legs.

I was going to take her!

Now I would discover if my feared inability to service a woman was a self-fulfilling one of being afraid of failure or a genuine disability. However, I persuaded myself that even if I found I couldn't come, it seemed I was stiff enough to pleasure her. To see that she, at least, had the joy of a satisfying climax. To make her a woman.

Suddenly she was in my arms. Oh, she smelt good; clean and fresh and young. I held her tight, my hands stroking that smooth, still damp, coffee-coloured back, cupping those firm butt cheeks.

Her sweet mouth opened under the pressure of my demanding lips to allow my impatient tongue to search for and dance with its mate. My hand came up and, fingers spread, combed through her damp locks. She gave a small, desperate moan and her arms wound around my neck; her flesh firm yet yielding, soft and cool from the rain, moulding tight to mine.

I bore her down onto the soft grass.

My palms took on a life of their own; exploring, stroking and caressing her sweet, nubile body. I pulled my lips away to breathe, then slid them down, the hollow of her neck, her shoulder, her sweet breast; finally, they closed over a dark, turgid nipple. As I sucked, she again softly moaned.

I felt her legs stir underneath me as she instinctively spread them wide, inviting me in. Lustfully I stroked her thick bush and ran my finger along her innocent furrow. Gently the tip of my tool probed, stretched her wet, swollen lips just a little. 'Does it hurt?' I asked. She just quietly groaned, her nails digging into my back.

Then I was inside her.

Thrusting her hips up to me, she took me deep, until every inch of my hard length was gripped in the tingling heat of her virgin tunnel. She quivered, impulsively grinding herself against me.

'Wait. Slowly. Let me show you.' I raised my head and looked into her eyes. Gently I kissed first one, then the other.

Impatiently her arms came up and pulled my head back down to her breasts. While I sucked each nipple in turn I very slowly withdrew until only my tip was in her velvet grip, then paused a moment before sliding it back into its new home. She trembled as, gradually, I increased my rhythm.

The thunder and lightning now crashing overhead were a counterpoint to my joy. Suddenly I went wild. Again and again I thrust desperately in and out of her magical depths, battering her yielding young body. Automatically her tight, wet cunni was clutching my restored erection as I plunged into her; an inborn, involuntary instinct, urging her muscles to squeeze the seed from out my depths.

Suddenly my balls awoke to their task. The build-up of tension after over four years of abstinence was there. I was whole again and about to erupt.

'Ahhh,' she cried out, her head thrown back, her eyes tightly shut. She was lost in the joy of the new sensations of her responsive flesh.

A long, throaty groan burst from her. She shuddered. Her inner muscles gripped me extra hard. She climaxed. I should have withdrawn, but it was all too much. I could hardly breathe as once, twice, three times my seed exploded inside her, vanquishing years of frustration.

Finally, wetly flopping and my chest heaving, I eased out of her and rolled onto my back. Soon, my pulse slowing again, my breathing nearing normal, I whispered, 'So wonderful. Marvellous. Thank you.'

I held up my arms and she slipped between them. Holding her tight I stroked the satin skin of her back; raised my head to kiss her soft cheeks and mouth. Almost overcome with happiness I held her close.

She opened her eyes and stared down at me. 'I never knew it could be like that. . . I . . . I have to ask you something. It's so silly, but I have to.'

'What?'

'Was it as good . . . ' She closed her eyes again, ashamed of the need to ask. 'Was I as good as the women you knew before.'

I kissed her, the top of her head, her eyes, the tip of her nose. 'No.' Her mouth began to droop at the corners, 'Better. The best ever.'

She gave a small sigh of relief, 'Hold me, let me feel your hands. Here,' and she took my fingers and placed them between her legs.

'If that's what pleases you, my darling.'

I cupped her mound slipping two fingers inside. She arched her hips, pumped against my hand, gave a deep sigh, and then went limp.

SPENT, WE LAY in our makeshift shelter listening to the rain drumming on the ground sheet. As happy as I could ever remember I indulged myself exploring that winsome body and feasting on those divine young breasts; trying, in part, to make up for the years lost since my injury.

After a while her hand slid down my chest to trace the line of a scar, then went on to explore my equipment. As the soft rub of her fingers roused me back to life again she whispered, 'Nice pizzle.'

'And how many others have you known?'

I could hear her smile. 'Don't need any others. Love this one.'

I contrived a groan. 'Then I suppose we had better give it some more exercise. It's been somewhat out of practice the last few years.'

'Does that make me its personal trainer?'

'Suppose so. Don't see any other applicants around.'

'One condition. You get rid of those bristles.'

I rubbed my chin - she was right, the shave of yesterday morning was a dim memory and my chin was like a scrubbing brush. God knows what I'd been doing to her soft skin.

'Wait there.' I rolled off her and scrambled to my feet.

A cup of water heated on the camping stove, I dutifully soaped and scraped my jowls smooth. I glanced at her and contemplated the black curls between her thighs. No, that could wait until we had decided on where the future would lead.

Evening was upon us as I finished shaving; the clouds beginning to roll away. Soon only a few dark patches remained to blaze with the dying rays of the sun, leaving the sky a palette oranges and yellows, the walls around us nearly pitch black.

'It's too late, and too wet to carry on tonight,' I said. 'So if we try and get some sleep now we can start first thing in the morning. With any luck we'll get to my place by mid afternoon.'

'Aye, Aye, Captain. But I think you have something else to attend to first.'

'That I do, Middy,' I said, wiping the last of the soap from my face.

Unrolling the sleeping bag I positioned it in the centre of the blanket, unzipped it and folded the sides back. Laying in the middle, I said, 'Come along then, Miss Impatient. Your turn to know me.'

She needed no instruction. Straddling my legs she grasped my newly resurrected tool in her strong fingers and carefully examined it, tracing the broad head, smooth sides and swollen veins. When, once more, it was rock hard, she eased herself up to my hips, held it upright, positioned herself above it, and slowly sank down taking all of me straight into her hot, tight centre.

I let out a deep sigh at this sublime perfection, as she found my hands and brought them to her luscious boobs. Gently at first, then with increasing urgency, I caressed their silky skin, feeling her nipples grow and stiffen. She leant forward, running her hands across my chest before slowly, tentatively, beginning to raise and lower herself on me.

She straightened; her head went back; she moaned; the muscles of her cunni instinctively clasped me. Her juices smoothing the way, she moved faster, each plunge harder, her cries getting louder. Her full breasts were bouncing, trying to tear themselves from my grasp.

I felt her thighs quiver as her orgasm built and I lifted my hips to meet her spasms. For the second time that evening I erupted, my sperm flowing deep into her. She gave a short cry of rapture, her legs muscles gripping my sides as she squeezed me dry, then collapsed forward onto my chest.

Finding her mouth I quietly kissed her lips and slid an arm between us and cupping a hard used breast, gently soothed the roughness of my clasp, my thumb stroking a still hard bud.

She said nothing, just rubbed her slender, young body against mine. My final thought as I fell asleep, clasping her close, was to pray I had not made a mistake and that I could keep this wondrous woman for my own.

THE GRASS WAS GREEN, the sky blue and the high sun warm as we walked hand in hand. Then she was gone, running from me across the close cropped turf. Vainly I chased her nude, coffee coloured form until she suddenly stopped and turned to me her chest heaving. I cupped the fullness of those beautiful breasts in my hands, squeezing them lightly.

'Know me, Ralph. Know me hard.'

I bore her to the ground. She quivered and moaned deep in her throat as I entered her. Her cunni was hot and tight around my long, thick shaft. Slowly I withdrew. She clutched at me as I paused, unwilling to let me completely leave her. My hard, so sensitive tip brushing her eager entrance I rubbed it up and down her furrow. She struggled and moaned with delight.

She rolled on top of me. 'Yes, yes, know me. Know me!' Her lips pressed mine, tongue probing for a dance partner.

As we kissed my palms found her tits, caressing them and stroking her hard nipples with my thumbs. She moaned with desire as I pinched and pulled, her young body pressed hard against me.

She raised and positioned herself then, and with a merry paean of lust, took me deep. My mouth was on a nipple; sucking; feeding; possessing. Her cunni contracted, clutching me hard. We held each other tightly as I erupted and filled her.

She was gone. I was alone. I could see her across the turf. Running toward a distant figure. I chased her but my legs were leaden. The faster I sprinted the further away she seemed. The figure was clear now - a tall, fair haired man of her own age. She threw herself into his arms.

I AWOKE, HEART POUNDING, lungs gasping. It was a dream, only a dream. She was beside me, stretched out, boobs pressed to the side of my chest, her head nestling on my shoulder, my arm aching where it was trapped under her adorable frame.

Most dreams are but a meaningless mish-mash triggered by the events of the day; but a few hold the key to our innermost needs and fears. Lying in the fresh, crisp, pre-dawn air I faced the truths mine had revealed. She had made me once more a whole man. Now I, in turn, wanted to make her my woman; to have, hold, care for and, who knows, maybe breed. But I was frightened; frightened that when she found her way in the wider world she would desert me for a younger man.

Facing my apprehension I reasoned all I could do was enjoy her in the present and let the future come as it may. If I was to have any chance of keeping her I mustn't assert myself. I must let her set the pace.

She stirred and drowsily murmured, 'Fuckle me, Captain.'

Was she really awake? I slid my arm from under her and gently moved her head from my shoulder. She didn't stir, continuing to breathe evenly. It seemed she also was dreaming. Then a deep sigh, a twitch of the legs, a small cry and a broad smile. At least her dreams were pleasant.

Here was the first test of my resolve. Much as I was tempted to rouse and cajole her into relieving my morning woody the idea must come from her.

Wilful brayed, shattering my meditations. The beast had to be short of water by now; despite all the rain a case of water, water, everywhere, nor any drop for him to drink. He bellowed again and Bea opened her eyes. Briskly sliding from the sleeping bag I searched the panniers for a clean pair of Y-fronts.

'Come on sleepy-head. Let's get the show on the road,' I urged.

She yawned, 'What's the rush, Captain.'

'I want to get to my studio. I've got the idea for a painting burning in my brain.'

Stretching, she presented her divine body to me. It took all my will power not to leap on its offered delight. Instead I doggedly turned to preparing a quick breakfast.

A modicum of chivvying and we were on our way again. This morning I would brook no delay to sketch or admire the scenery; I was compelled by a need greater than any I had ever known to get back to my studio and daub paint on canvas.

OVER ONE MORE RISE and the rest was downhill all the way. Even Wilful seemed to get the message, or perhaps he just sensed the nearness of his paddock. Mid morning a line of blue across the horizon marked the sea and slowly grew until by early afternoon we were back among the bushes and trees of the littoral. Abruptly we came to the end of the path where it met the road that wound its way along the coast. Turning westward we skirted the edge of the bay.

Bea was entranced by the beach and the calm sea. 'I'd forgotten what it's like,' she said.

'How come?'

'Mother took the twins and me when we were young, but the last time was years ago. Can we go on the sand?'

'I was planning to. You see where the bay ends in those rocky cliffs. Well they're a small headland. The far side is a tiny cove with my house. We're lucky, it's just about low tide so if we're quick we can wade around the point.'

'What happens when the tide's up?'

'Then we have to go the long way. Round by the road and down a half-mile track that leads from the village to the cove.'

It still being fairly early in the season there weren't many people on the beach, and they were all clustered at the other, eastern end, close to a small hut providing ices and snacks. I grabbed Wilful's bridle to keep him taking it dead slow down the short, steep path to the beach. Not Bea though. With a whoop of joy she ran down the sand to the water's edge, plucked her shoes off and splashed along the shallows.

'Isn't it cold?' I shouted.

'No. It's quite warm. I'm going to swim.' She darted back to stuff her shoes in a pannier and untie the knot of that shirt and slip out of those hot pants.

A quick glance back along the beach assured me there was no one close enough to see her strip so I let her go. 'Watch the currents around the headland,' I shouted, 'they can be quite strong, even at low tide.'

Her pleasure was infectious and if it weren't for Wilful I'd probably have joined her. As it was I upped my speed in an effort to get to the cottage as quickly as possible, while happily enjoying the sight of her - a naked sprite dancing out until the water was up to her thighs, then throwing herself forward in an energetic dog paddle.

But soon, as I strode along the beach beside Wilful, watching my woman cavort among the small, choppy waves, my joy diminished. On the one hand, I had a feeling of guilt at my immoderate plunder of her nubile innocence, and on the other an urge to flaunt my possession of her seductive flesh like some proud symbol of masculine prowess. Telling myself to take a grip I waded through the shallow water round the rocks at the base of the headland and into the cove and my solitary dwelling.

As I stepped back onto the sand a wet and naked Bea came to stand the other side of Wilful. 'Is this your's?' She asked, her eyes opening wide.

I tried to see what she saw. A gently sloping, sandy beach about sixty yards wide between two low, rocky headlands. Then a narrow foreshore of dunes with a scattering of hardy grasses and salt loving plants and up a short slope, the building I called my studio.