Tupped at the Agricultural Show

Sam had not been to an agricultural show before and enjoyed a wonderful morning in the bright sunshine looking at the animals, visiting the exhibits and watching the activities in the ring. She had petted the otter hounds, been surprised by the variety of sheep breeds, enjoyed a glass of real lemonade, been impressed by the size of the bulls, but been totally disinterested in the multitude of brightly coloured, and no doubt very powerful, tractors and other farm machinery.

The day had been hot right from the start and she had come in her white cotton dress with a big floppy hat. She was a pretty girl and knew it. So did most of the men present, a lot had turned to watch her as she walked past and not a few had thought ideas that perhaps they should not have done. One of these was Randolph Trevais. He had taken one of the tents provided, for a fee, by the organisers for his booth. He liked coming to agricultural shows for the atmosphere rather than the business. He generally found that he little more than covered his costs because farmers, sportsmen and the sort of country folk who came to the shows did not usually see a need for his services. He advertised, "Problems cured by hypnosis. Sleeping difficulties, worries, concentration problems etc etc - see Randolph Trevais." The lack of custom did not indicate he was not good at his trade. He was.

Randolph had the leisure to watch Sam as she wandered about, he even smiled expectantly at her as she walked towards his booth but when she read the sign she turned away seeing no interest or need in what it offered. Randolph admired her slender figure, long flowing golden hair under her floppy straw hat, long legs, ample bosom, and the attractive sway of her bottom in the light cotton of her dress. As she turned away the sun shining through her dress showed her to him in silhouette. It shone through her hair making it even more golden and it also showed the exact contours of her figure through the dress suddenly made almost transparent by the bright light.

Sam returned to the ring and became absorbed in the heavy horse display. There were all varieties there: Shires, Percherons, great grey Clydesdales and even the smaller Suffolk Punches. She liked the Punches the best with their rich orange brown coats brushed and brushed by their owners until they shone. She watched them for a long time. What she did not see creeping up on her and indeed quietly creeping up on the rest of the crowd was a black cloud. One half of the sky was bright blue, the other black with cloud. The sun was still shining when the rain swept over the field. It soaked Sam in seconds. She gasped when the rain first hit her and looked wildly about for shelter. It was a long way away. It was not easy to run in her shoes so she slipped them off and held them in one hand, holding her hat onto her head with the other. It was in the process of removing her shoes that she realised what the rain had already done to her dress. It clung to her body, soaked with rainwater, showing and moulding her curves in exact detail and, what was worse, being thin and white it had gone almost transparent revealing her bra and panties.

These too were white, as of course they had to be under a white dress. A lovely soft white cotton bra with little frills and matching panties; both new that morning. They too were soaking and like the dress had become almost transparent. Sam was as near to being naked in the rain in the middle of the agricultural show as she could be without actually being naked. She looked up and despite the rain many men were watching her with appreciative smiles and the odd nudge to companions. There was not much she could do about that apart from run for shelter but even that was going to be embarrassing for her because, when she reached it, not just the few men still out in the rain would see her but the whole sheltering crowd would see her in her predicament. She did not relish the prospect but what else could she do? She ran, her feet slipping on the wet grass, towards the marquees and tents for shelter.

Randolph Trevais saw her coming from the dryness of his tent, his marquee. He saw a wet bedraggled version of the girl who had walked past with such poise and confidence in her own appearance minutes before. As she ran closer he could see the effect of the rain on her dress, its near transparency and the exposure of her sexual attributes. He raised his hand and beckoned her into the shelter of his tent.

Sam saw Randolph ahead of her in the dry sanctuary of his tent. She saw his hand rise inviting her into its shelter and out of the pouring rain. Instinctively she rushed towards him and in through the tent flap and out of the downpour.

"Urgh!" she gasped, "where did that come from?" She stood with chest heaving from the exertion of running, rain falling from her, rivulets running down her face from her hair and dripping off her chin.

Randolph's eyes followed a drip downwards and saw the drip run on down inside the material of her dress and into the valley her breasts made in her dress. His gaze flicked sideways to her pretty pink nipples showing through the thin cotton material of both her dress and bra. He looked back up at her face and into her blue eyes. He smiled, "Unexpected, a real cloudburst from nowhere. Rain that, I'm afraid, certainly caught you. Now what can I do for you? Let's see what we need is a towel. Sit, sit here."

It was a relief to be out of the rain. Sam took off her hat, shook it and sat and looked about her. It was dry in the tent. The strong smell grass gives when it has been crushed by footsteps inside a warm tent came strongly to her nostrils, an earthy, comfortable scent. The man returned smiling and sat opposite her and handed her a towel.

"Here you are, not much of a towel but it is the best I can do. Now what is your name?"

She smiled her thanks and said "Sam." Looking at him she was struck by the man's brown eyes, deep set in a face otherwise dominated by a black beard with flecks of grey. She dabbed at her face and hair as he began to talk about the rain, the show and her misfortune in a soft voice. She listened, at first casually as she patted herself with the towel, more concerned at herself than what he was saying, but then more intently as she found herself watching his eyes, friendly but strangely unblinking, as he talked. Her hands and the towel came to rest in her lap. She listened to his soothing voice and his talk of the rain, the show and her misfortune. She felt safe, comfortable, slightly dreamy even.

"Well, Sam, you do seem to have got yourself very wet in the rain, haven't you?"

In a rather slower voice than usual, Sam replied, "Yes, very wet in the rain."

"You need to get dry don't you?"

"Yes, get dry."

Randolph smiled to himself, this was going very well.

"You really have got very damp indeed."

"Yes, very damp."

"You haven't used the towel I gave you very much, have you?"

"No, not very much." She dabbed at herself.

"I'd better help you, would you like that?"

"Yes, I'd like that."

"First thing, is to get those wet things off, they make you cold and keep you wet, don't you agree? We don't want you catching cold, do we?"

"Yes, get wet things off."

"Shall I help you undress?"

"Yes, undress."

"Stand up then."

Sam stood in the middle of the marquee, her dress still as wet as before, arms, legs in fact everything, except perhaps her face, still soaked. She waited patiently, unconcerned that anything might not be as it should be, that something might be wrong. Randolph laced up the tent flap and turned back to Sam; he was going to enjoy this very much indeed. He went around to the back of her and put his hands on her arms. The skin was very smooth, a little damp and cold.

"Dear, oh dear, you are wet." He gently rubbed the towel down the outside of her arms. "Well, this is not going to get you really dry is it? Now how does this pretty dress undo, ah I see, buttons down the back." He began to undo them one by one, the dress parting at the back as he progressed downwards, first revealing the little bumps of her spine on her tanned back, right up near her neck, and then, with another button undone, the white of her bra strap, with those little hooks to undo, revealed. Randolph left the bra alone and continued downward exposing yet more of her back until, at the last button, the top of her white panties showed. He dabbed at her back with the towel picking up little drops of water. It was pleasant to be so close to her smooth skin and watch the little droplets being picked off her skin by the towelling. He felt a strong desire to kiss her back, to touch it with his tongue but it was not yet time.

Randolph took hold of Sam's shoulders and ever so gently pulled her around to face him, he smiled at her rather doped expression, "Now, Sam, I'm going to slip your wet dress off so I can get it and you dry, will that be alright?"

Sam nodded. Randolph lifted the shoulders of her dress, now open to her waist at the back, up and to the sides and brought them down past her arms. The front of the dress slipped downwards catching for a moment on the prominence of her bra but then it was free and level with her tummy. Randolph let go and the whole dress slipped off Sam and flopped wetly onto the grass.

"Oops we mustn't get grass stains on your white dress, step away would you Sam?"

Sam stepped to one side and Randolph bent to pick up the dress. As he slowly rose his eyes travelled up her brown shins, past her knees and up her thighs to where they joined and were covered by damp and rather transparent panties. He paused, he could see through the thin wet material and easily discern her little patch of fair pubic hair. Little, because it was carefully tidied to form a modest covering to her slit. Being wet it did not do this effectively and her slit was very clearly visible on her mons veneris. The tip of his tongue moved across his lips, he was going to enjoy stroking the fair curls and exploring further. Randolph's journey carried him on upwards past her flat tummy with its little recessed tummy button, her prominent breasts with the quite large pink aureole showing through her wet bra, until he was standing once more looking at her relaxed, almost vacant, face. He stepped back and admired the tall girl now clad only in her wet white panties and bra.

"That's better, now let's get you really dry, Sam." He began to stroke the towel across her shoulders and down her chest across her bra. He rubbed down the sides of her rib cage over the corrugations of her ribs catching patches of wetness. "Now, Sam, raise your arms, there's a good girl."

Sam obediently raised her arms up above her head. This had the effect of pulling up her breasts, flattening them a little under the damp material of her bra. Randolph was disappointed but not surprised to see carefully shaved armpits. He would have preferred to see little blond curls. He preferred the 'au naturelle' but he was not complaining. He dabbed under her arms, "Sam, that doesn't tickle does it?" He asked, "I bet it does just a little."

Sam giggled, "Yes it does ...a little." She laughed opening her mouth and showing her pretty white teeth. She wriggled making her breasts move.

Randolph's penis was hard, very hard, in his trousers. He took a deep breath and made his next move. "Sam your bra is soaked, I need to hang it up to dry with your dress, you won't want it all wet and cold will you? It would be better if I took it off and hung it up to dry, shall I take it off?"

Sam looked momentarily concerned, Randolph smiled re-assuringly, "It really is very wet and you'll get cold, let me take it off. Shall I?"

Sam sucked her bottom lip under her front teeth as if thinking. Then the look of concern dropped from her face and she nodded.

Randolph went round behind Sam again, he put the towel over his shoulder and took one side of the back bra strap in each hand and eased first one hook out of its eyelet, then the other. He released his hold on the strap and, now undone, the bra fell a little forward. Randolph ran the towel all the way up Sam's back drying the skin previously hidden under the wet strap and then slid it slowly up her back bone from her panties to her neck. The desire to run his tongue up her backbone and feel the bumps of her vertebrae on his tongue was still very strong. He resisted and taking hold of Sam's shoulders once again turned her to face him, his eyes instinctively dropping downwards to the much greater valley now exposed between the two bra cups. It was nearly hanging free. The smoothness of her skin and the gentle curve out of the valley towards the still covered nipples was exciting and beautiful. With both hands he took hold of the shoulder straps and lifted the bra free. Now, no longer obscured by any material, he could see Sam's breasts completely clearly. Firm, round and brown. There was no sign of a difference in skin colour caused by a bikini top.

"You sunbathe topless?"

"When I can."

The coldness of the rain had had an effect on Sam's quite large pink aureole, the nipples, particularly the left one, stood prominent and hard. Randolph overcame an urge to squeeze it between his lips and feel its hard resistance before encouraging the right to match its fellow. He ran the towel slowly down the valley between Sam's breasts picking up little water droplets standing on her smooth skin. The passage of the towel pushed the breasts slightly to either side and there was just a hint of a wobble. Randolph sucked in his breath. He drew the towel to the left under Sam's breast then upwards so that the towel dried under her breast but lifted it bringing the hard nipple a little closer to his face. His tongue touched his upper lip as he thought of licking the hard nipple. Very slowly Randolph pulled the towel up Sam's breast and over the nipple.

"Oooh," said Sam.

"All right?"

"It tickles."

"I expect it does but it's getting you drier."

"Yes, drier."

Randolph rubbed the towel over the right breast but using his whole hand between the towel and her skin so he could feel the firmness, the fullness between the open palm of his hand and the towelling. He longed to take both breasts in hand, in his naked hands. But the time was not yet ripe.

"Better," said Randolph and he wiped the towel down Sam's tummy. He squatted in front of her and began to dry her legs. He rubbed her legs below the knees briskly watching the towel catch the faint blond hairs slicked against her skin, then pull them one way then the other before, now dried, they sprang up and away from her skin. With the back of his hand he stroked them.

He looked at her knees. Knees, he thought, are a much-neglected erotic object. He knew some people got very excited about feet, about toes, about erotic manipulation using toes and feet. Breasts, bottoms, penises, pudenda, the mons veneris, lips, but never knees. The subtle rounding of the skin over the patella, the way it could be moved under the skin of a relaxed knee, the valley behind the knee with its hollow, its dimple. He'd come in the valley of many girls' breasts but never, he thought, clasped in the crook of a knee.

Randolph dried Sam's knees. "You have very pretty knees you know."

"Pretty knees? Me? Ooh, that tickles!"

Randolph was drying the backs of her knees. He started to draw the towel up the back of Sam's thighs. His gaze rose higher and he looked straight at the join of her thighs, which was inches from his face, the little curly hairs distinct through the transparency of her white panties.

"Open your legs a bit, Sam."

Sam did as she was told.

Randolph carefully stroked the towel up the smoothness of her inner thighs inching slowly upwards from her knees to where the distance between her thighs narrowed to perhaps a couple of inches, then just an inch. The towel moved a little bit further and touched the material of the white panties.

"You know, Sam, your panties are as wet through as your bra, so much rain, they need drying too. I'll take them off. Would you mind if I did that? You do need to get dry don't you."

"Yes off, I need to get dry."

Randolph put down the towel. Outside the rain had stopped and the sunshine was returning. As if a light had been switched on the tent suddenly brightened, the canvas changing from a grey white to golden beige. Randolph slipped two fingertips into the waistband of the panties on either side of Sam's hips, pulling at the elastic. He paused; savouring the moment, then began to pull downwards. The material rolled a little over itself either side and then the whole waistband began to move downwards. Randolph kept his eyes on the waistband at the front. A thin band of white skin appeared, Sam, he established, sunbathed with her bikini bottoms on. He had wondered. A slight indentation ran around Sam's waist, made by the elastic of the panties digging in a little. He pulled them a little further downwards and a few golden hairs began to appear, wetly slicked down against her skin just as those much smaller leg hairs had been. The top of her slit appeared and began to elongate. He was almost beside himself with desire, a desire to push the tip of his tongue into that little slit and run it downwards. All in good time he thought, all in good time. The material travelled further and Randolph could see, between her partly opened thighs, Sam's clitoris hood, very moist and pink.

"Thighs together, Sam, so I can take these off."

Sam was obedient and the panties traveled faster now, down past her thighs, her knees and then she stepped out of them to stand completely naked. Randolph dried her hips. He placed his hands on them and turned her round so her back faced him, his face level with her bottom. He admired her bottom cheeks, two dimples at the top and the interesting separation of the white skin from the brown. Her bikini bottoms were evidently not large. He rubbed the towel across her bottom moving the cheeks, making them wobble a little. He turned her back.

"Open your thighs, nearly done, nearly dry."

Randolph patted Sam's curly fair hair. It was still slicked back against her skin but as the towel soaked up the moisture it gained body and rose up to form a soft mound of curls. Randolph took a deep breath and holding just one corner of the towel in his fingers slipped his hand between her thighs and ran it along her labia. Sam shivered.

"Does that tickle?"

"Oooh yes."

"Is it a nice tickle, do you like that?"

"Oh yes."

Randolph did it again. Sam wriggled. It felt good.

"Yes, you do like that don't you? I expect it's a bit like when your boyfriend touches you? You do have a boyfriend don't you?"

"Yes, like that."

Randolph ran the towel lightly between her thighs a few times and then pulled the edge of the towel along Sam's labia again but this time allowing the tip of a finger to run along beside it, running up between the two lips. Sam was not very dry there.

"I don't seem to have dried you properly between your legs or... would I be right in thinking that is not the rain at all?"

"Not really the rain."

Randolph began to stroke Sam, letting his fingers run along the edge of her labia. He could feel the soft folds becoming wetter. They really were very soft and wet to his touch.

"Does your boyfriend like to kiss you there, tickle you with his tongue."

"Yes, sometimes. I like that."

"Shall I tickle you?"

There was a hesitation, then "Tickle me please!"

Randolph had been waiting for this. He had overcome any residual resistance. With a smile he put out his tongue ever so slowly and touched Sam just at the top of her slit. He could feel the little curly hairs running across his tongue as slowly he ran it downwards, and his journey was slow, there was no hurry and it was a journey he wished to remember, until the end of his tongue rode up and over the clit hood.