Wales, 1819

A bit of an historical dalliance -- if you like historical fiction this may be right up your ally. Being old hat at rolling in the hay, I wanted to explore the idea through fresh eyes. This is what I came up with. It deals in subtleties, hope you enjoy the tension.

Wales, 1819

I was in shock. I didn't know what I'd just stumbled upon -- didn't know what to make of it, any of it. Julia and Henry -- it was a starling scene, one that was so jarring and confusing I knew I needed to leave immediately but I couldn't force myself to go. My curiosity anchored me to the stairs, my feet shouted at me to retreat. How could I have no idea at all about what I'd just witnessed, no notion of what it meant outside of the feelings it produced in the pit of my stomach. Her face, the way they were locked together, the fluid motion between them created the most intimate utterances which occasioned the feelings shooting through my core. My hand had instinctively felt for an aching between my legs, it owning more inherent intelligence than I about such things...

Everyone treated me like glass, or some kind of idiot... I felt like an idiot trapped in glass. I was told nothing of consequence and kept out of conversations thought to be 'unfit' for my mind -- such was the lot of young women in my circumstance. Worse for me, as we lived in a remote end of the country, companionship with anyone my age was out of reach. I found myself angry, like a spiteful child who learned that another was given access to some great pleasure and I was withheld from sharing in their rapture. That feeling of unsettled electricity, it lingered inside me long after I forced myself to sneak away. It haunted me all night long as I didn't sleep but instead held my hand atop the throbbing between my thighs, not knowing what to do about it. It must be entirely forbidden, that's why I've not been told of it! And yet, there was not a soul I could approach with my endless questions. All the books I read of two involved hearts didn't hint at even a trace of this. I felt quite abandoned to the confusion and void of understanding this scene provoked in me. The seeds of frustration were firmly planted that afternoon and all I could do about it was daydream and scheme.

...

Arriving on an overcast morning, Owen is greeted by our household with more than a little fuss. Visitors are scarce out this way. I'm informed he's a business connection of my father's, son of an old school mate, visiting for some official purpose I could care less about. Not too much older than my eldest brother, I'd met him briefly when I was young, and forgot that was the case -- a clumsy embarrassment when I re-introduce myself. Recently achieving my 20th year, up until three weeks ago I was feeling mature and worldly. Each day now seems a fresh humiliation, each faux pas, a smarting blow. I thought I knew what life had to offer until I caught sight of Julia and Henry in the cellar. Now little makes any sense and I wonder about all I don't know, which is a swift way to drive yourself to madness.

The journey to us at Briar Hedge being a long one, Owen -- it's decided -- is to stay on nearly a fortnight, and in that time I make a study of him. It takes only a few days for my simple conclusion -- he'll do. Brilliantly, in fact. He's slight but strong and can handle a horse with such deftness of movement I wonder at his other talents and knowledge. Does he know? I'm determined to find out, consequences be damned.

By the end of the first week, a few days after I've made up my mind, I find myself so restless and unsure of my way forward I begin to be cross with everyone and everything. I can shut myself up in my room only for so long before it becomes a noticeable peculiarity, so I opt to go out walking often. Owen is always so affable and light, treating me like everyone else does -- as though I have a pile of feathers in my head -- and with a mild kindness that he extends even to the manner in which he pulls out a chair. He can't know, can he? Those hands of his can't be capable of what I saw Henry's do to Julia, the way he held her by the jaw. By the eighth day my frustration is thrumming so loudly in my ears I beg off breakfast and head straight into the thicket on the back of our land. A far stretch away, and across an abandoned footbridge nature has since compromised safe passage over, there is to be found an area of tall grasses and wild flowers where the trees grow more sparsely. The sun slats in in patches and the scent is that of rich, heady earthiness this time of year. The surrounding perfume presses upon me like a weight, I don't know what to do with myself anymore -- but before my mind winds itself any tighter I hear breaking twigs and hold still. Expecting to see a dear, or some such animal, I turn to see Owen strolling up to me with a wide grin. My body begins to tense and warm -- heat crosses my cheeks in surprise, a hotness fills my chest in agitation, and a warmth spreads between my thighs in yearning.

"A cozy spot you've found here," he breaks in.

"Did you follow me?"

"I had no intention to, but you marched out so deliberately and straight for the trees, I had to know what it was you were seeking... I remember this place."

"How do you mean?"

"You think you're the only one who likes to explore their surroundings? I've traveled these parts for the better half of ten years. I've wandered all about here, many times. There's a brook, just a kilometer off that way," he points. I don't look. My pulse is racing and his voice is a distant humming to my mind.

In my hands are some collected flowers I plucked along my route. Owen bends over to pick one himself and hands it to me. His proximity -- I brood, in my current attitude -- is enraging and intoxicating. I want what's flashing across my mind right now, and I want it with him. That look of intensity across Julia's face, almost pained but certainly not unhappy -- it was a mix of all opposites, but I knew in my depths what she was enjoying was an ecstasy I've yet to savor.

"Pick me some flowers so I may bring them back to my love? I know little of what makes a nice bouquet," he innocently requests.

My arms fall and I drop all the blooms I'm holding. Irrational at best, moody and petulant at worst -- but I find I'm beyond control of my actions. In my agitation I can't stand to be anywhere but entirely alone or be given what I most fervently want. Hot tears begin to run quietly down my face. Owen looks alarmed. I drop to my knees and put my head in my hands. Gingerly stepping towards me he falls upon a knee in front of me and a vice grips my pounding heart.

"Maiden, am I the reason for your upset? Please, whatever it is -- forgive me."

I respond by throwing my arms around his neck, to which he gives a startled laugh, patting my lower back while trying to gain back his balance.

"I'm sorry, for any and all I've done. I've gathered you don't have many guests this far out. I'm not sure it was wise to follow you and try to be sociable. In truth, it seems a lonely place for a young girl to live --" the tone in his voice turns low, "fret not, however, life holds promise of adventure for you yet."

I don't answer his words. They fall on my ears confused, sounding like a foreign tongue, or as if they're spoken under water. I just hold on and try and keep my breathing shallow as the surging feeling in my chest hits like an ocean roaring against a cliff face. Soon, though, my answer comes in the form of leaning back, pulling him off balance once more and atop me as we're cradled by a boulder at my back. I feel him tense as I pull, waiver, and catch his weight with one hand as he now lays across me. He makes a confused sound and I hold firmly his neck and press my thighs on each side of his hips. Stillness. He doesn't make any immediate movement, just breathes. I insist again with my hips, pressing against him, not knowing what more I should be doing. I can hear his breathing at my ear become more labored and I then realize mine is quick and quivering. He presses his face into my neck, burying it in my hair, inhaling.

"I can't..." he trails off.

I tremble. There's a note in his voice that matches my body's need. Still I hold on. Soon I notice his hand travel to my hip, run along my side and cup my breast through the fabric of my dress. He tenderly massages it and I realize my hips automatically respond in kind against his. His fingers pinch my nipple, the first jolt races through my core. Pulling his face back I detect a mix of bewilderment and determination in his eyes. His hand leaves my side and I feel him begin to press himself up off me, away from me, and I panic a bit -- panic about what I've done, who will hear of it, but mostly about losing the feel of him against me. I close my eyes and try to hold the memory of his weight atop me while simultaneously wishing I could vanish into thin air.

To my surprise, instead, I feel a hand on the small of my back pull me close to him and move me off the rock, fully onto the ground. I open my eyes and see his face hovering above mine, tall grasses to either side, hiding us from without. A hand slowly caresses up my thigh and pushes back my skirts. I remember Julia's skirts being gathered up against her waist and the memory of Henry pressing repeatedly onto her consumes my mind. I feel a bolt of apprehension shoot through me, a deep aching. Owen catches onto this and I see in his face a curious expression.

"Have you never...? No, of course you haven't."

I shake my head -- no, along with his words.

"Not even... so much as a kiss?"

I shake my head again.

He swallows hard, and his hand on my thigh pulls back. He stays poised in this way, breathing shallow, before he moves his face closer and presses his lips upon mine, shifting the weight of his hips against me. I feel something firm on my thigh and move away from the feeling, best as I'm able under his weight. He gives a small, nervous laugh that makes me think he's unsure of himself --

"I fear this all will be tremendous confusion for you," his face turns more serious. "You honestly know nothing of this, do you?"

I don't reply and can imagine my wide eyed stare communicates it all, but I hold him fast, almost defiantly. Another kiss comes tenderly upon my lips, I feel his hand move back towards our hips. An unbuttoning, a moving of fabric, fingers exploring where I'm aching deeply, that firmness, now smooth against my leg. His tongue finds its way into my mouth and so many new sensations are cascading over me I find myself both struggling to keep up and make sense of any of it -- but none the less, indulging in every bit of it. Then a rush... I don't quite know what to make of the feeling. His fingers have dipped into a space I wasn't fully aware I had, or at least its depths and possibilities, and the accompanying feeling causes me to whimper, in both delight and shock.

He responds by pushing in deeper, with more energy, and I find he's right -- I'm entirely confused, and surprised, and growing a bit nervous. I begin to shake.

"Tell me you've never felt this before," he pulses his fingers in and out of me in such a way that waves of tingling crash over my body.

"Never."

"Do you like it?" He twists his hand and the feeling intensifies.

"Ohh, mmm yes," I quickly answer, and -- to my compounding surprise -- I find it to be entirely true.

Leaning back onto his heels, his free hand slides the top of my dress off my shoulders, revealing my soft breasts, while his other hand is busy -- doing what I can't describe as anything other than drawing me into a delirium I've never known. I feel the tension of his fingers fitting a space that's answering with a return pressure, a stretch and tightness of its own. I arch my back to meet his hand and his palm presses against an area that causes me to snap my eyes toward the sky and makes my knees instinctively bend and press against his sides.

"Huhhh," I breath out hard.

He removes his hand and draws it up to his mouth and tastes me, closing his eyes, adding his own moisture to his fingers and plunging them inside me once more. The rushing feeling consumes me. Leaning himself back atop me while continuing to stroke and caress my aching regions, I try to decipher the intent focus cast across his brow. He pushes aside my skirts and I see for the first time the reason for that firmness I felt against my leg. My eyes give away my curious apprehension and he leans forward to whisper in my ear -

"Is this what you ask of me?"

He moves my hand to hold it. The eddying current in my body is so heightened I feel as though I'm at a precipice, about to plunge off into something -- something unfathomable, something vast. I'm entirely lost on how best to answer, but the scene I witnessed again comes to mind, and though I don't know how it all fits together, I want what Julia was experiencing that ignited a fire inside me. I'm not asking, I'm demanding -- and he is to be the one to offer me what Julia felt. I move to kiss him and grab his wrist, drawing it back towards the needful area under my skirt. My answer, and permission thus granted, he shifts atop me and I feel him position himself in such a way that there's a smooth hardness -- distinctly different from his fingers -- giving pressure to that spot between my legs. I feel a slickness between us down there, a throbbing want. He moves my hips so my back is flat against the ground and traces a thumb across my bottom lip.

"Tell me when," he offers, and I can feel his hips gently pulsing, pushing at me ever so slightly. A feeling of bigness is poised to be inside me that I struggle to comprehend.

I place my hand at his lower back, like I saw Julia hold Henry, and press him to me, my body jolting in complete shock at the feeling as he enters me. I suck in my breath and let out a muted yelp. He silences the sound with his lips and stops his movement. We're both trembling against one another, his pause only lasts a few seconds more before I feel him further fill me. The girth of him, I can't imagine how my body can handle it. I'm stunned and yet extremely excited. My breath is caught in my chest and only when I feel his hips connect fully with mine do I finally exhale.

"Are you ok?" he looks nearly panicked now.

I wrap my legs tight around him and gently buck up against him in answer, the pressure I feel deep inside from the motion startling me anew. Though I feel wholly pinned in place and can only manage the slightest of movements, I keep trying to roll my hips, that area between my legs begging for each new feeling rolling through me. He begins to rock atop me and my body comes alive as yet I've never felt it. The initial discomforting tightness begins to subside into a snug feeling of pleasurable fullness. Soon enough I feel him thrusting against me with longer strokes, rhythmically, a wetness guiding our movements fluidly. It's an ecstasy. Our eyes lock and I sense that we're both a bit scared about what we're doing. He teases my breast with one palm and grabs my backside firmly with the other. I find myself not being able to restrain the moans this elicits when his hand moves to cover my mouth again.

"We must -- must -- be quiet," he strains, though I can see he's wanting to give voice to the feeling as well, he holds back.

We continue in this way, a bit clumsy, finding our pace when suddenly he draws himself away, pulls me up, and sits back on his heels. Gathering me to his chest I can feel his girth poised beneath me, he cradles my backside and guides me down onto him. An entirely new sensation explodes across my consciousness and my body takes over. I grind my hips on him and my body gives out from the pleasure every fews strokes, he wraps his arms tight around me to help me keep pace.

"You're following nothing but your instinct aren't you? Let it rule you," he commands.

Grabbing the fabric of my skirt at my hips he uses it to work deeper into me, his hardness filling me up so completely. Soon I feel tears streaming down my face once more. I don't know why. What I've discovered is distilled pleasure like I've never known -- I can't fathom what's occasioning them. Perhaps relief. He trails his tongue over one of the wet streaks across my hot cheek and then kisses me -- the saltiness of it compliments the savor of this moment. He moves his hands to either side of my face and keeps my gaze level with his as I grab his waist coast to steady myself and buck firmly onto him. One of his hands moves down and pulls away my skirts to find my backside again. He draws his hand back to my lips and dips a finger in my mouth. Finding its way back to my bottom I feel a new pressure, one so deeply mixed with the torrent of sensations I can't immediately pick it apart from the rest, but soon realize he's pressing his finger into another part of me. My brain tells me it's entirely too scandalous, my body tells me this is all a delicious scandal, what's one more added sin? Soon I feel a deep pull, a swelling, a trembling wave -- he notices.

"Let yourself go towards it," he instructs, his breathing uneven and labored.

My body strains and pulses, aches, and soon gives way to a rush followed by weakness, as though I'd just struggled against a strong current and nearly drown. In that moment when my mind is overtaken I have a faint remembrance of him wrapping his arms entirely around my waist, as though trying not to let me escape, fighting a sensation all his own before crumbling under the same weight of release. Throbbing radiates from between my legs, up though all my limbs. Light focuses more clearly around me and I'm brought back to our surroundings. I look at him afresh and find a mix of joy tinged with strangeness. I don't know at all what to say to this panting, sweaty man who holds me close, and still fills my insides, after something so indescribable to my mind.

"How do you feel?" he breaks in on my thoughts, tucking an errant strand behind my ear and kissing my jaw.

"New." I turn my face to meet his, "How did you learn what to do?"

"Men talk. In bar rooms, in clubs -- I'm studious of all things, but particularly of this, the way it's described. I paid close attention. It didn't disappoint," he smiles shyly. "You owe me an explanation yourself, someday."

My mind reels, I can't fathom his meaning -- he's never done this before? But first my mind circles back to an earlier pressing thought, "What of your love?"

"A woman I've been directed to marry, a friend first, really. We've known one another since childhood. Though, in comparison to you, not one part of me stirs even a little when she's near. You, you've driven me to recklessness and possible ruin. This has to be a beginning."

I roll off him and lay back amongst the tall grass and flowers, touching myself. He leans over me.

"Meet me here tomorrow, at dusk. I can slip out before breakfast and claim an early walk to clear my mind. You must find your own excuse. There is a week yet before you leave?"

"Six days. Every moment you want me I'll find a way to make it yours."

"Brilliant. Now touch me down there again, I ache for you still."