The Adventures of Charity

That next night, after Pa had come in her mouth while she knelt on the wooden floor before him, he told her he wanted her to take an apple pie to Old Hopper. She set out around mid-morning the following day, enjoying the walk. Charity took the path that led to the old wooden bridge that joined their lands. She had brought some stale bread with her, and took moments to feed the hovering ducks.

When she finally arrived at Old Hopper's two-story brick home with two turrets either end and tall glass windows, she was surprised to find he wasn't alone. A man, almost ten years older than Charity, stood looking out the window of the sitting room where Old Hopper waited. He barely paid her any mind as she sat where Old Hopper indicated, smoothing her simple dress over her knees.

As Old Hopper mumbled about the weather and such, Charity kept sneaking glances at the tanned man with broad shoulders. His dark brown hair was wavy. His jaw was square, his nose straight. He was manly and intimidating, a complete stranger to her.

"I'm getting old." The bald admission drew her attention fully to Old Hopper. "I want to see my grandson Griff settled."

Both her and Old Hopper's eyes swung to Griff, hers curiously. She wasn't sure why Old Hopper was telling her such things. The way Griff's shoulders tensed made her even more curious.

"I hear good things about you, Charity. They say you are gentle and obedient, that you would do any man proud, in bed and out."

Charity's eyes widened at his unspoken meaning. "Oh, I'm not sure..."

"Nonsense. You're exactly what my grandson needs."

"But-"

"Grandpa, now would be a good time to leave."

Old Hopper raised an eyebrow at Griff, and several silent moments passed before he finally nodded. He stood shakily, and she rose to assist him. He patted her hand kindly. "I can manage, gal."

The door closed most of the way behind him, and Charity sat again, suddenly nervous. She gazed down at her clutching fingers, not sure what to say. The Hoppers were from a different world then the one she belonged too. They had farmers like her father working their lands.

"Take off your gown." Her blues eyes widened at the quiet voice that was suddenly close behind her. She hadn't heard him move. Nevertheless, her fingers lifted to the buttons that ran from bodice to hem, and flicked them open one by one.

He came to stand before her, the intent green eyes watching as her pale breasts with their pink nipples spilled free from the straining cloth. The material parted further with each button released, revealing her belly and the soft golden curls at the V of her thighs.

She rose to slip the gown from her shoulders, her head barely reaching his chin. A shiver raced through her as his large hands settled about her tiny waist, his thumbs rubbing the flesh of her belly. Her rosy nipples budded. "Can you be as sweet as you seem?" he murmured, and she frowned in confusion at his back as he turned away from her.

He sat down on a chair beneath a tall window, and crooked a finger. Biting her lip, she slowly approached, her hips swaying gently. She came to stand before him, and his hand lifted, cupping her mound. His eyes locked on hers as his fingers lightly explored her soft valley. When his finger finally dipped inside of her, a silky wetness had gathered. Charity whimpered, her gaze snared by his.

He caught her wrists, dragging her down until she straddled him, her weight resting on her knees beside his hips. His hands slid up and down her sides, brushing the outer swells of her breasts. "So perfect," he murmured, before latching on to a nipple. Her head tipped back, the ends of her blonde hair trailing over his thighs. Through her lowered lashes, she caught a glimpse of a moving shadow in the reflection of the glass.

He nibbled and sucked on each nipple in turn, making her wiggle on his lap. A hand slipped over her soft cheeks to lightly stroke her nether lips.

Her hand quested down over his belly, tugging the cloth loose from the buttons before sliding beneath. Her fingers glided over a rock hard belly dusted with hair until she discovered the warm male staff. He was hard and gloriously thick, and she pumped her hand up and down the surprising length of him.

"Take me and put me inside of you," he whispered against a damp breast. She complied, shifting over him, one hand clutching his shoulder for balance. The other hand guided him to her, and she strained over the tip of him, before bearing down. "That's it."

Her tight channel yielded and he slid deep. A whispery moan escaped her at the impossible fullness of him there. She began to move on him, and it felt different from before. With her father, she felt comforted, protected, needed. With Griff, she felt the tingles begin like she did when she touched herself. His hands gripped and molded her bottom as she rode him, one hand wrapped around his neck and curling into the wavy thickness of his hair, the other pressed flat against his thumping heart. His breath was hot against her throat as he nibbled and sucked her flesh.

The cloth of his linen shirt teased her aching nipples and belly, her body wept around the unyielding hardness that plunged deep. When his hands cupper her face, drawing her mouth down to his, pleasure swept through her as she came unexpectedly, making her gasp against his open lips.

Her rippling warmth clenched about him, and he drove up into her with determined thrusts. His heavy grunts told her he was almost there, and she waited for him to pull out. When he filled her with spurting warmth, her eyes widened in surprise. Still he kissed her, until she relaxed fully against him.

Her head rested against his shoulder, her mouth pressing tiny kisses on the raspy underside of his jaw. His hand smoothed up and down the creamy column of her back.

"Aye, did I have the right of it?"

Charity stiffened at the intrusion of Old Hopper's voice. Griff's hand settled on her hip and he pressed a kiss against her bare shoulder. "No need to gloat, old man. I think I was hooked at the sight of her standing in the stream."

Her head tipped back until her gaze met his, a flush creeping up her face at the thought of him watching her bathe in the altogether without her knowing. His lips twitched at her wide eyed look.

Gently he eased her off of him, then using a napkin from the coffee table, wiped her between the legs. Old Hopper handed her crumpled gown to her, and they both watched as she buttoned herself up.

Her father was pleased, but saddened at the knowledge that soon she would be settling down to have babies of her own. That night he put his pole in her twice, the second time for a long, long time before he finally came against her leg. It wasn't as intense as it was with Griff, but it was comforting to feel the press of her father on top of her.