The Grove

[Note: This story is based on experiences I've had at renaissance faires. Historical accuracy is not strictly adhered to.]

Kit inhaled lightly. Very lightly, she grimaced, feeling her bodice constricting her ribcage before her lungs were nearly satisfied with the amount of air she’d absorbed. The air was fresh and cool, and the sun warmed her face and the tops of her breasts above the low ruffle of her blouse.

James watched her from down the road. He was far enough that he was hidden by the doorway of a nearby shop, but close enough that he could see her breasts rising out of her bodice. She was sweeping the front stoop of the shop she worked for, but the dust just shifted around on the wood, never really getting clean. Anyone else would have been satisfied by just shifting the dead leaves from the stoop to mingle with the ivy, but Kit was sweet and a hard worker, smiling but stubborn. The dust rose in clouds around her.

Suddenly, she stood up very straight. The broom clattered to the floor and her hand rushed to cover her mouth and nose.

James paid close attention at the clatter of the broom. Kit was frozen in place for a few seconds, apparently trying to ward off a sneeze. She relaxed. James took this moment of her distraction to stride towards her.

“Good morrow, Kit,” James said as he approached.

Kit looked glorious in the morning sunlight. She was the prettiest girl in the shire: shining brown hair with gold flecks that caught the light rays, warm brown eyes, full lips that usually curved into a wide smile. Assisting her own natural beauty that morning was a new black velvet bodice, much tighter than her old one. Her skirts were layered black and purple and tucked up so you could see the tiers of colors.

James smiled to himself because she was not only the most beautiful girl in the shire, but also the only one who got away with wearing colors reserved for royalty. Working for the seamstress certainly had its perks for a pretty young girl.

“Good day, m’lord,” Kit lowered her eyes and gave a shallow curtsey. James rolled his eyes at her formality. “What brings thee my way on this fine morrow?”

“Well, I was passing by, and thy looked so wondrous in your new bodice that I felt the need to inform you of it.”

Kit blushed, pretending to scorn the contraption but really loving the tiny waist and full breasts it gave her. “I nearly cracked three ribs when I tried to sneeze this morn.”

James laughed heartily. Kit pouted. “Aww, Kit. ‘Tis with only love and kindness I laugh. Thou art most ravishing in it.”

Kit’s pout softened a bit. “Come now, back to work before thy mistress comes back and fins me putting thou off from thy tasks.”

James stepped in close and rested his hands on her full hips at the bottom of her bodice and stared into her warm brown eyes. Kit was nervous as he came closer and closer. He turned so that his lips were at her ear.

“Fare thee well, beauty,” he intoned, leaving her nerves tingling near her ear and in the pit of her belly. She stared at his broad shoulders and manly gait as he walked away, and again she felt light headed. This time, however, had nothing to do with her bodice.

A few hours later, Kit was too busy to think about James. She had fitted the Bard O’Reilly for a new dress, and had washed heaps of cloth. She was dying for a break but it was not yet her lunch hour. She was thrilled when her mistress called her away from her task.

“Kit, wouldst thou be so kind as to deliver this tunic I’ve mended to the lord of the bootmaker’s shop?”

“Yes, m’lady,” Kit responded, happy to escape outside for a few minutes.

Kit took the tunic and dallied along outside. She was a hard worker, but needed these moments away to keep her head level.

A short walk later, she found herself at the bootmaker’s. The door was propped open to get a breeze, and the smell of leather filled her nose as she stepped into the room.

“Good morrow,” she called out in greeting, but her voice echoed in the empty room. A pair of unfinished boots lay on the workbench.

“In the back, lass,” a far away voice called from behind a partly open door.

Kit crossed the room and gently pushed the door open. The back room was dark compared to the sunny workroom, and she stood shyly pressed against the doorframe.

“You again?” James’ voice was one of pleased surprise.

“Oh,” Kit said, startled to see James crossing the room to her. “But – you’re not the bootmaker,” Kit said, puzzled.

“Nay,” replied James, “but the poor man took ill this morn, so I’m lending him a hand around here.”

“Oh,” Kit said again, now understanding, but anxious about James’ nearing proximity to her in the dark room. He took her hand and pulled her farther into the room. The door swung back to it’s partly closed position.

“Thou art a surprise to me, too, lady. What brings you to these parts?” James asked. “Besides, of course, my charm and wit.”

Kit flushed, and stuttered as she remembered her purpose. “Oh, um, m’lady asked me to deliver this tunic to the bootmaker.”

James took the tunic out of her hands and tossed it carelessly on a nearby table. “Wouldst thou care for some water?” he offered, moving to get it before Kit answered.

She accepted it gratefully and took a long pull. When she finished drinking, James was near her again, taking the mug, casting it aside.

She started to speak, but he caught up her face in his hands and pressed his soft, warm lips against hers.

After a second, she stopped protesting, giving in to her desires, ignoring her anxieties. She returned the pressure, moving her lips, letting them part and his tongue enter her mouth. Her hands found his sides, warm and strong beneath the soft fabric of his shirt.

He released her face with one hand and pulled her body against his. He moved his hand that was cupping her face through her hair, tangling it around his fingers. Kit’s heart was pounding and her body was aglow. James’ hand around her waist was tracing circles across her back against the soft velvet, then running along the bottom edge of her bodice, itching to be underneath.

Kit felt her insides start to tumble deliciously, and she pressed her body hard against his. He pulled her willing body into his, cupping her pear-shaped bottom through the layers of skirts. Kit felt his hand at her back, then felt the hardness of his erection at his front, and jumped back, gasping. James started to pull her in again, but she scrambled away to the other side of the small room.

“I’ve forgotten the time, m’lord,” Kit returned to the formality of their earlier meeting.

James watched her breasts heaving in her bodice. Not wanting to push her too far, James nodded. “Yes, beauty. Would not want thy mistress complaining.”

Kit nodded fervently back at him, then gathered up her skirts and started out the door. James crossed the room to her in a quick stride, gathered her up in his arms again, and kissed her shortly but strongly. Kit’s arms were welled up against his chest in a sort of protest, but had really gathered the material of his shirt into her fists. He let her go almost as quickly as he’d scooped her up.

“Tonight, Kit. At sundown. Meet me in the grove.”

Kit let her hands run down his hard chest as they fell to pick up her skirts, and left without answering.

James waited in the grove while the sun set. He didn’t want to take the chance of missing her. He sat on a rock, feeling the cool moss beneath the thin fabric of his pants. He was restless with anticipation, and worried that she wouldn’t show.

Kit stared at the man on the rock for several long moments. His dark hair fell over mischievous, sparkling blue eyes, and a scrap of brown fabric was knotted around his head. His skin was dark from hours in the sun, which made the bright tan of his tunic


glow in the fading light. His mouth was set, but his lips – his wonderful, stunning lips – would curve into a smile at the sight of a little woodland creature scurrying across his line of sight. She closed her eyes, remembering being pressed up against his body. Arms, legs, chest – hard and strong, masculine. She’d thought about the hot waves he’d sent through her all afternoon.

Kit stepped into the clearing in the private grove of trees. The space was intimate, and James was on his feet and taking her hand as soon as her footsteps sounded lightly on the ground. James took her small hand in his larger one and pressed his lips to the back of it. He bent at the knee and bowed before her, opening her hand and kissing her palm, her fingertips. Searing flashes went through her as his lips traveled her hand, then kissed the side of her wrist. He clasped both her hands in his and said quietly, his voice hoarse, “M’lady.”

Kit shook her head at his genuflecting. “Sir, I am just a poor peasant girl –” she started.

James rose to his feet again. “It matters not. Thou art beautiful, charming, sweet,

and dear, and your lips upon mine and the rosy flush in your cheeks have not left my mind for an instant of this day.”

His lips found hers again, then trailed to her jaw, then the smooth skin of her neck.

They looked each other in the eyes and shared a small sign against the background noise of the wind sifting through the leaves, and chipmunks playing and chittering. James beckoned her with his eyes, and led her to a small grassy patch. They sat facing each

other and slowly kissed, secluded and in no hurry. James cupped Kit’s face in his hands and planted kisses across her face, covering her eyelids, the bridge of her nose.

"Ahh, Kit," James breathed, rolling his hands over her body. "Thou art lovely to my eyes and hands."

Kit let herself slip back into the soft grass. It smelled of summer and tickled her skin, but it only aided the sensations the rest of her body were absorbing. Kit leaned back on her elbows as James hovered over her. He swept her hair from her face, kissed the

corner of her mouth, then made her gasp as he gently lowered his lips to the tops of her breasts. H kissed each one and then in between them, letting his slightly stubbly face tease her skin. Kit was panting, and her nipples ached as they strained against her bodice as she took in air. James smiled at her lazily, enjoying the slow path he was taking as her desire grew.

"As lovely as that bodice looks, I think it be time for it to come off," James intoned.

Kit's heart skipped as she watched his fingers trace the tops of her breasts before he slowly pulled the end of one of the laces that held her rigidly in place. He tugged agonizingly until the bow unlaced, and slack gave way in the first few crisscrossed

strings. Kit drew a deeper breath, and James stared as her breasts popped farther out of the top of the bodice.

Kit drew in another breath and arched her back as the material rubbed her nipples. James could contain himself no longer. He dove at the pale globes that were desperately trying to escape the dark chambers of the bodice. His mouth fell on them, sucking and

mouthing, trying to draw as much as possible between his anxious lips. Kit was on fire, rocking into him, cursing her layers of skirts. She grabbed James' hair as he buried his mouth in her bosom, wiggling and mewling little pleasured moans.

James was no longer satisfied with the nursing he was able to do with her blouse on. He tore the laces from the tight vest, leaving her breasts exposed under a sheer white cotton. Her pink nipples stood out both in color and dimension, even in the shadowy near dark that was setting in. James sucked her breasts through her blouse, chewing on the ruffles and licking the salt of the day's sweat. His mouth left damp circles around her nipples on the fabric, but the picture was short lived as he pulled the blouse over her head.

Kit lay exposed to the chill air, her face flushed, her lips parted. James pulled her skirts off her body and cast them also aside, leaving his goddess naked in the grass.

James stopped for a moment to admire the glow of her milky skin. He imagined it in the next hours of moonlight, and then in the glossy morning dew. Kit cupped his chin and held his gaze, and nothing existed except the two lovers in the private grove.

Kit spread her legs, showing her flower between her sweet thighs, and James broke out of his admiring trance. He stripped off his shirt and threw it aside, then cast his pants off with fervor.

The grove seemed silent as James got on top of her, one hand in her hair and the other at her hip. The previous chatters and chirpings of grasshoppers and squirrels had stopped; the leaves stopped shifting; the air hung, heavy and damp.

James entered her thickly, and Kit's mouth opened in a silent cry as her slippery lips made room. She felt his skin against her inner walls, their tiniest movements spinning into more.

James' rod dipped into Kit steadily. She was slick below, and his tongue traced her nipples as he penetrated her. Her mind was numb but the sensations that poured over her body were overwhelming. Her hands were in his hair, on his chest, on his face, around his waist as she moved with him, seeking and greedy for more pleasure and greater heights.

James rolled over onto his back in the grass, nimbly pulling Kit along on top of him. Her hands planted on either side of his head in the soft dirt, the grass peeping between her fingers. She pushed herself upright on top of him and let his hands on her hips and the pleasurable friction guide her into a rhythmic rocking on top of him. James played with her soft body, watching her face and the way her breasts and flesh shook as she moved, no longer wound tightly in her bodice. He stared as her pink lips consumed his patient rod, taking it deep until their dark patches of hair met and they were one organ, functioning together.

James' thrusting quickened now, pushing Kit up a steep incline. She rode him unabashedly now, like this was their secret ritual instead of a loss of innocence. Kit's hands traced James' muscular arms from his shoulders to where they now gripped her hips, curving around and grasping her bottom, making dimples in her flesh.

James slid his hands downward until his thumbs covered her mound, then stroked her pubic hair up and down while she moved. She gasped and moved faster as his thumbs grazed her lips, picking up her honey liquid and swept it again and again over her clit.


Kit's moans shattered the silence in the grove of trees. James rubbed insistently, pushing Kit to the unknown. He felt her tighten around him, then thrust once, twice, and again. She let out a beautiful noise, and, seeing the ecstasy pour over her face, he let her

take him away with her, let the pleasure wash over him and let his silky white cum seep into her hot capsule.

They lay panting for a moment afterwards, Kit's hands planted on James' chest and her head hanging, her hair tickling his still alert skin. James pulled Kit down next to him, and again kissed her lips, eyelids, and face. She settled into the crook of his arm in the now moonlight, her face still rosy and flushed. Slowly, the tiny noises of the grove began again, their moment of silent reverence now passed.