The Goddess of Summer

The church was full. She would have approved of the flowers. She had trained the ladies on the church rota well.

The vicar droned on about how she had always given back to the village she loved,

"Abigail or Lady Abigail - though she disliked using her title, was the only sister of the Duke Of Woodfleet. She never married. Her beloved home, the gatehouse of the Manor, was always a haven for those in need. Her generosity was legendary. She was much loved despite never finding love or the fulfilment of married life for herself."

I think the vicar was trying to intimate that my aunt was a virgin. Spinster of this parish she may be but a virgin? I started to chortle but managed to disguise it as a little cough. My husband held my hand and smiled reassuringly.

Despite her sensible appearance, my Aunt Abigail was a true free spirit. A wild child for four months of the year for three decades. The rest of the year and for the last decade of her life, she had been the spinster everybody knew, in her gatehouse tending the sick and doing good works.

Yet, she was a goddess every summer, living a life of debauchery and passion. Countless young men had lost their virginities to her, and she had trained them to please. Lonely widowers had cried as they held a warm and willing woman once again. Young men full of passion but with no regular girl to share it with had enjoyed her charms.

I should never have known about that part of her life. I was visiting an old school friend's flat in Devon. The travelling fair was in town, and we went to have some fun. It was a traditional fair with a coconut shy and all the best fairground rides.

My attention was caught by the retreating view of a woman taking a man by the hand to her caravan at the far end of the showground. He stumbled in his eagerness. There was something about her stance that struck a chord with me. She glanced back and smiled at him. Despite the unfamiliar long red fiery hair and the flowing clothes she wore, I saw my Aunt Abigail's face.

Aunt Abigail left our village on the first of May every year. She returned on the first of September. No one questioned it. Her travelling to visit various old friends for four months of the year was just her norm.

I left my friend and wandered towards the caravan I had seen Abigail enter. This van was high-sided with steps. The windows were too high to see anything, but as I sat on the steps of her van and heard the passion within, in no doubt that my aunt was giving the eager young man a wonderful time.

A woman came out of the neighbouring caravan and stared hard at me,

"What are you doing? Gail don't entertain any lady callers. Only gentleman callers, be off with you."

"She's my aunt. I've come to visit."

"You must be Lucy then," she said to my amazement. "I'm Meg. She said you were a pretty one. Best wait in the van until she's finished her fun."

I sat in Meg's van sipping hot sweet tea while waiting for Aunt Abigail. The van was spotless; every surface gleamed. Eventually, Meg disappeared after what seemed like an age and returned with my aunt.

She stood, her hair red, wild and unkempt. Different from the tight brown French pleat she always wore. Her silk wrap fell from her shoulder as she self-consciously pulled it back up. She was sensual and beautiful.

"Lucy, I'm so sorry; promise me you'll listen before you judge."

I nodded and tried to give a reassuring smile as she carried on.

"It started almost thirty years ago, long before you were even born. I was just twenty and engaged to a friend of your father's. I loved him, and in those days, nice girls waited till their wedding night. He was from a very good family and it was essential to have heirs. His mother insisted I undergo medical tests before the wedding to establish my fertility. My role as a broodmare had to be ensured, you see.

Sadly, they found that I was infertile; barren was the term they used, no babies for me. Although he loved me, he couldn't marry me. I had to watch him marry another. It was in all the papers the summer I ran away to the fair. That's where Rex found me sobbing. He owned the fair back then. After listening to my tale, he told me that there was a simple cure for my sadness. The universal cure, as he called it," she smiled.

"So, he took me back to his van, kissed me deep and hard and slowly undressed me, telling me how beautiful I was, that I was a goddess and that I would drive men mad with lust. I'd never been naked before a man. Never felt that excitement or desire. He kissed me all over when he took me that first time. I was lost. He sought out my deepest, darkest places as he thrust in and out of me. I found my deepest desires fulfilled; I found myself.

I have been seeking the thrill and satisfaction of that first time, taking the cure, the universal cure, every summer since then. Only here, only amongst my friends, as the summer sun shines. Except for Rex, only one time with each man. I have been strict about that."

I sat amazed at this fabulous creature I knew but didn't know at all.

"How many men?"

"Thousands added up--young, old, fat, thin, fathers and sons. I've had them all. The only thing they had in common was that they truly desired me. I was discerning in my way. I needed to feel a special attraction to them, or I would never feel fulfilled."

"Have you been fulfilled?"

"Oh yes, I'm a very sexual person. The older, more experienced men always say I'm the best they've ever had. I think because they aren't used to such an enthusiastic partner. It gives them confidence, and they up their game. If I'm ever left unsatisfied, I won't let them out of the van until I am."

"What about safety?"

"I have my friends around me, and they would never let anyone hurt me. All these years, I've been safe, looked after by Rex's family."

"Where is he now?"

"He died a long time ago," she looked away for a second as she gathered her thoughts. "He was my friend. Now his son and grandson keep an eye on me and Meg, of course, his sister.

So, have I shocked you? Will you expose your spinster aunt as the unrepentant summer slut she is?"

"No, Aunt Abigail, I won't. I think you're wonderful. You have a whole other life that allows you to escape the role that life has created for you. I'm just jealous. I wish I could escape, too. I've spent my life in a girl's boarding school, surrounded by other silly, naïve girls. Not growing up with boys, they became exotic creatures I don't understand. I don't know how to be me around men. I've never been kissed yet my spinster aunt is a goddess of free love."

Aunt Abigail smiled that familiar smile I knew so well.

"Do you remember how frightened of horses you were when you were a girl? Now you are an accomplished horsewoman."

"That was because you got me the best instructor, and I was soon riding free."

"While I don't want to inspire you to be like me, I know the perfect person to instruct you; he would soon have you riding free, so to speak."

I looked at her, shocked but strangely excited.

"Rex's grandson is working on the waltzers tonight. He's about your age and almost as good as Rex, despite his youth."

So that's how I found myself waiting nervously for Reg in Abigail's bed, waiting for him to wash up after he closed his ride for the night. He smiled as he came into the bedroom, smelling of soap and spicy cologne. He ran his hands through his dark curls and whistled before saying in an accentless voice,

"We love your auntie, and she loves you. It's an honour to fulfil this task for her, to take your special gift. I have to say, though," he laughed as he took off his shirt, "It is a relief to find that you are absolutely gorgeous."

I laughed, too, pulling the sheet up to my face in my embarrassment. When I pulled it down, he was standing there in all his nakedness. His corded muscles rippled over his slim physique. His manhood pointed to the van ceiling swaying ominously as he walked towards the bed.

"You're gorgeous too," I blurted out, "But you're so big I had no idea - it will never."

"You've just said what every man likes to hear in this situation, Lucy; I promise it will fit and you will love it. No more worrying and no more talking."

With that, he kissed me, a lip-crushing, searing kiss. His tongue was wet and hot, searching for mine. He took my breath away as his hands gently squeezed my breasts. His fingers teased out my nipples until they were harder than they'd ever been before. His hands caressed me, stroking my legs and inner thighs until his fingers touched my core. Touching my wetness as he found the source of my need. I felt my orgasm build until I clamped down on those fingers that had given me so much pleasure. Reg wasn't quite finished as he moved down the bed, his glorious dark curls buried between my thighs as he licked up the wetness my pleasure had caused. All around my folds he kissed, his tongue working in and out until he gently sucked on my clit, and I screamed out my approval.

Smiling, he entered me, soothing me as he removed the last vestige of my maidenhood. He held me tight, my breasts crushed against the soft dark curls of his chest as I lost myself in pleasure.

Afterwards, he continued to kiss me gently as he held me,

"I hope it was as special for you as it was for me."

"It was wonderful," I murmured, suddenly shy.

"You're wonderful; you need to know that."

Later, I watched him getting dressed, fascinated by the wonders of his body. The way the muscles of his bottom curved into his muscular thighs--the paleness of his torso next to the deep brown of his forearms. I hadn't realised that men could be beautiful.

My Aunt smiled when she saw me lying back with a contented smile.

"Reg is lovely, isn't he? He's only here for the summer, too. He goes back to university in the autumn. He's a very clever boy."

That was my aunt's last summer at the fair. I'm not sure if it was because I had discovered her secret; she merely said that as she approached fifty, it was time. She went to the hairdresser to have her hair returned to its natural brown for one last time. Her only memory of her time at the fair was the silk wrap she kept hanging on the back of her wardrobe door.

My aunt was a lucky woman, leading two lives for many years, enhancing people's lives. As my husband squeezed my hand during the last hymn, I came out of my trance.

As we followed Abigail's coffin to the family plot in the graveyard, he whispered to me,

"We have so much to thank her for, Lucy, don't we?"

"Yes, Reginald, we do," I smiled as I held the hand of my loving husband tighter.

My Reg, my first kiss and my first and only love.