A Country Divided (Closed)

Her laughter, as unintentional as it was, was like music across his ears. It made the embarrassment of the muddy mess acceptable. No sooner did he get a chance to enjoy it but a mass of cloth and skirting was coming right at him until both landed fully in the stream.

Ben sat up immediately looking to her to see if she was safe. The laughter met him giving him calm, but not before the wave of worry flushed hard through his face. Sitting next to the laughing woman in the stream he reached for a bit of wet hair across her cheek and slide it to the side. “On the brighter side,” he laughed, “my pants will not be as muddy.”

He stood up in the stream that seemed to not be so deep here to cause great concern; but the very wet denim of his uniform pants were already feeling tight & surely pressing in around his pelvis where it hung the heaviest. Still, he was less worried about himself as he was for Grace. He reached for her and helped her to her feet.

As she rose, he became immediately aware of the state of her dress. No longer did it billow and enhance. Now it lay tight to her form, and presented much of the shape of the girl that lay underneath. There still remained layers between his eyes and her skin, but his imagination finally had what it needed to fill in what he could.

“Ah,” he studdard. “Yes, a fine … fine mess.” His gaze didn’t leave her body, specifically the roundness of her breasts pressed up against her top. “We should … find a place to dry … or return.” There was no doubt he was staring at her body, but it only took too long for him to realize it.

With a cough, he looked away sheepishly and wiped the water on his face. “Usually, I swim in less than this up north. But we should get your clothes dry.”

Grace’s cheeks didn’t take long to flush with color. She was distinctly aware of both his and her state of dress. It was hard to ignore his stare that was leveled at the swell of her breasts. It was also hard to ignore how his shirt clung to his body, and how his pants enhanced the outline of the rest of him. Grace released a nervous giggle.

The young woman looked a ways down the stream and then back up. “If you don’t want to head back to the main house, there are plenty of branches to hang clothes on, Ben.”

She glanced back at him, gathered her wet skirts and approached the bank. With small hands, she reached for the bank and made her way out of the stream bed. Was she ever a sight! It took a dip in the stream to melt the aire of formality. Grace glanced back, “Are you coming? You’re not going to dry in the middle of the stream.” She commented, giggling more.

It didn’t take much for Grace to make her way from the stream bed and she carefully came to her feet. Her bare feet. She walked back to the willow and started to shed the skirts that were plastered to her body. She still had a chemise and pantaloons so she wasn’t so concerned with modesty, but she didn’t want to disappear and head back to the house. That was surely no fun. She’d rather stay right here. Grace wanted to know more about Ben. A lot more.

He stirred something in her that would test even her most sensible notions.

He watched her rise from the water.

Watched her move towards the shore.

Watched her gather her skits, soaked heavy by the stream.

There was so much more presenting itself to him from the wet clothing, and it was something that didn’t make him want to leave that moment.

When she stopped to turn, to suggest a branch for drying, to giggle .. that was when he was brought to do more than watch.

He himself, stood in the stream and moved slowly to the waters edge. His bare feet found the ground slick, causing him to move slower than necessary, but it only gave him more time to take in that which was being revealed in front of him. The body that was emerging from the skirts were setting off a desire that was taking more and more control of him. The beautiful woman emerging in front of him, free of the proper cloths of womanhood, was shaped in such a way that only brought forth a fire of lust and need.

He was shedding his denim pants without realizing it. It being the most heavy with water, and most muddy. Removed, it left him still with ankle length drawers wet and clinging against his skin, and only few buttons that were starting to enter a fight to retain his modesty. He dragged the denims in his hand as he unbuttoned his shirt.

As the space between them closed to the point where he could reach past her to the branch, he was able to slide the shirt from his should lifting it and the denims to the tree behind her. Taking back his hand, it touched her shoulder, one that was soft in it’s request to turn to her.

He wanted to see more of her. Wanted not just watch her from afar but watch from close.

Without a word, without the properness of a request, he lifted his hands to her chemise where a light cotton cord held it closed. There, his fingers interlaced the cord, and pulled the knot open.

A soft flush spread across her skin, from her cheeks to her shapely breasts contained beneath the chemise. The giggling had long since faded and the circumstances that brought them to this point were nearly forgotten. It was as if someone had reached in and taken the two out of their worlds and had given them their own respite.

The temptation to reach out to Ben was like a soft whisper in her ear.

She wanted to touch him.

She wanted to feel him close.

Grace could feel her heart pounding in her chest, like the drums of war that marched by, sounding out each step. She could hear the pounding in her temples and prayed she wouldn’t faint. She looked up at Ben with her expressive, blue eyes as his fingers found the cotton cord, and her small hands slipped across his waist, resting one on each side.

Grace could hardly breathe. Her soft, pink lips parted and a soft sigh escaped her. Not even her brothers had laid eyes on her skin after her 5th birthday. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as the heat of her body rose. Grace, in all her book knowledge, had found herself unprepared when it came to a relationship with a man. Of course, no one was quite like Ben. He could feel her start to shiver as the cool air washed over her wet skin, though one had to wonder if it was really a change of temperature or his presence that brought it on.

If there was any reluctance or a suggestion that what he was doing was unwelcome, the soft touch of her hands on his hips was all he needed to cast aside such thoughts. This was what he wanted, his body was leading him to this end, but her touch not only told him she wouldn’t stop him, but told him to continue.

The strings in the chamise pulled loose with only a little resistance and the top pulled open free of any restraint. It still mostly covered her, but gone was the modest coverage of her frame. Her pale skin was now exposed right down between the lifting curves still hidden. He stared at the flesh, mesmerized by the simple beauty of her flesh. Yet he was impatient for just this image. His hands left the strings of the chamise, and instead to it’s hem along her neckline. When his fingers first touched the softness of the skin there, he could feel his manhood grow needfully inside his own underwear in anticipation. Finally, with a slow meaning push, the fabric slid to the apex of her shoulders and down her arms as far as her position would allow.

It was enough, because now her supple breasts came into his view.

And to him, they were the most glorious sight of his life.

He stood in awe, looking towards her beautiful chest. It seemed like forever that he stared at them, yet it seemed only long enough that he started to breathe again. The catch of air, sounding more like a gasp than anything, brought him back to the reality of the woman standing before him.

His eyes rose up to hers, his mouth open breathing hot air from it, and a smile rose to his face. In the only act he could think, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers wanting to taste her lips once more. As he did, a hand slowly slid down her chest until it encircled one magnificent breast.

The aching slowness by which Ben had chosen to unlace her chemise only increased the sexual tension that existed between them. Grace couldn’t even to begin to imagine how the next moments would play out. As close as he was, she could feel the heat of his body rising. She wasn’t sure what to do. In her mind she was struggling with who he was whereas her heart was telling her something else. Her traitorous body was the clincher. The tangible need to be close to him was as easily tasted on her tongue as his kiss. Grace leaned forward into his kiss and when his warm hand slid over her softest skin, it elicited a soft gasp from her and another tremble washed over her.

Grace could feel her pulse pounding in her temples. Her heart was beating even faster. The nervous butterflies were wreaking havoc in her belly and yet it was as if she were frozen in place. She couldn’t run, and she dared not disturb the illusion that had gripped them, lest they both feel some disappointment from a shattered dream. No, she couldn’t move.

Just then, he felt her nails graze across his waist to the small of his back. She dared to break all formalities, to run the risk of being branded tainted and yet it didn’t feel like that at all to her. What she felt was result of girlish dreams. It was as if she had waited for Ben. To feel a gentle touch, to smell his musky male scent, to feel secure within the arms of his larger frame. To dare to open to him and to allow him within. Grace had just met this man, so why did she feel such a strong desire for him?

Was it her desire to feel something other than her responsibilities?

Was it the need to mold her life out under her terms?

Was it that in the midst of a war, she could find common ground with the enemy?

Why was he the enemy? A soft moan escaped her. Men, good southern men, had cursed the Northerners more than once. These same southern men, or at least many of them, had already died for the good of the Confederacy. When her kin would finally arrive home, Grace wondered if they would notice the subtle changes. Would they know she had housed and comforted their enemy? Did she care if they knew?

All these questions were small whispers in the back of her mind. For all the strength of those words, Ben’s lips forced them into the back of her mind. His warmth enveloped her completely and the only sounds that broke into their respite were the sounds of the stream, and the birds perched high in the trees around them.

The soft flesh of her breast tightened, and her nipple started to swell. When his lips finally parted from hers, a soft murmur left her lips… “Oh Ben…”

Inside of him, every spark of desire was firing like muskets along a line. It was the softness of her lips. It was her hands on his hips. It was the feel of her nails pulling him towards her. It was the curve of the breast so perfectly molding into his hand. And it was his named breathed in the warming air between them. She was this strong woman, so calm in the face of what could be considered an invasion, still cordial, yet still in command. Now, in his embrace it was like she was the willing body for him to take. That may have been the last of what driven him to the final need.

He let his hand slide off her breath to her side. The move turning her so now her bare chest pressed against his. He could feel the soft nipples on her breasts press into him, feeling like they were burning into his skin. His need kept him assertive with his hand. It dropped down to the curve of her waist and slid under her undergarments. He was trying to press the clothing downward, off her hips, away from skin, to expose her for his further need. Between the river wetness of the cloth, and dampness of her skin it felt like each movement demanded him to stop, to hold, to caress. Along the while his fingers found the cleft of her bottom, and dipped until the curve met the beginning of her legs. His fingertips were near to her womanhood, near to the her most private of place, near to where he wanted to push further.

Gone was the considerate gentleman who asked for permission to settle at her farm. Gone was the man concerned for the way those may think of his simple aches and pains. Gone was his unspoken promises to the house staff to keep Grace pure. Gone was his boyish curiosity and chaste kisses to the young lady under a willow. In his hands was a woman of desired who brought out the man in him. It made his member strain against it’s own skin. It made his mind lose the sensibilities at his core. It just wanted to have her, and make her feel the pleasure that he desired himself.

The whispers in the back of her mind were silenced. Grace didn’t understand the depths of her desire. She couldn’t explain it, no matter what excuse or question she formed in her mind. He wasn’t a young boy. He wasn’t one of the many leering pairs of eyes from the darkness. Ben was a strong, able officer and frankly, she found that attractive. He was young, fit, and had a demeanor that called to her like a siren’s song. The dampness of her skin ached for his warmth, and when her breasts pressed against him, she could feel the warmth of his body permeate her skin. It was like a blanket of warmth settling over her. But there was more to it than just his warmth.

Grace was struggling with her physical attraction. The closer his fingers wound to the barest of her flesh, the more she trembled. Her body and mind welcomed his efforts to free her of the stream soaked clothes. As each inch of skin was exposed, a deeper shiver coursed through her, bringing with it a strong wave of lust.

There was no sensibility to it. No long, formal process. Grace’s heart was pounding harder in her chest. Ben was transforming as each moment passed. There was a different spark in his eye, and one she didn’t recognize. The pools of his gaze consumed her as his hands pulled demandingly at the last of her wet garments. Grace blushed furiously, and the healthy glow spread from her cheeks down to the peaks of her breasts. The tips of his fingers grazing her caused her to nearly lose her mind in the process and the dampness of the cloth was now lost as the moistness of her arousal began to spread.
Dear God, she wanted him.

Grace had never felt anything this strongly. It was almost scary. Her trembling, coupled with the nervousness that gripped her belly kept her logical mind caged. Every sensation felt like a lightning bolt shooting through her. When his fingers brushed her flesh, the sensations spread outwards causing her to squirm...and to moan out. All this…as a response to his touch. It was just one touch…or was it?

Grace couldn’t keep track. The young woman clung to the Union officer as if she could nearly crawl right under his skin. She just couldn’t get close enough.

Ben’s whiskered face cheek found Grace’s own silken skin cheek. The hot air breathing from his mouth rolled down across her neck. He could feel the heat from her own breath against him, the warmth of her skin through his. He had carnal knowledge of the female form, but this was something different. This was something like he never felt before.

While his mind struggled to comprehend the pleasure of being so close to this woman, his hands knew what to do and they acted with more assertion. The fingers that played with her breasts left the firm orb to find the waistline of her undergarment. Those that were playing at her bottom found the opposite side of the same waistline. Together, they freed the clothing past her hips. Now that the water soaked material no longer hid her charms, he put his hands back to skin. One palm enclosed on the soft globe of her bottom, but instead of leading the charge to her sex it grasped her to hold her steady.

His other hand touched her stomach and immediately began sliding down her navel until it first touched the downy hair at the edge of her womanhood. His fingers spread, stroking the silky growth but not at all suggesting that it will stay there. When his middle finger first breached the gap between her legs it moved back teasingly, feeling her heat already noticeable.

Yet something in his mind triggered. The warning given to him early that day in the house. Somewhere within the gaps of his need, he was realizing how prophetic Sadie was. His finger once more guiding itself to her cleft, his mind forced him to speak. “I do not want to ruin you. Stop me, please, if you wish.”

Ben’s bold hands and fingers awakened Grace. It was more than a girlish crush that had gripped her. It was something she herself had never pursued. Her stuttered breaths became apparent as his fingers slid lower, leaving behind a trail of warmth that would quickly consume her.

Her mind still struggled between the pleasure of his touch and the common sense that had been driven into her mind; a result of generations of influence. She struggled with the small, albeit strong voice that told her she shouldn’t be here. Why? Why shouldn’t she be here? Why shouldn’t she desire to fulfill her need for his touch?? Couldn’t she be more than simply a virginal bride? Wasn’t she more than the sum of her child-bearing abilities? Her sense of self fought the generations of tradition, daring to question her true worth. Her adventurous and willful side demanded to be recognized. Her decision to choose him was no less important than his desire to have her. And so, the protestations that has manifested in the back of her mind were finally laid to rest.

Ben.

He was so full of life; So composed, so perfectly controlled, at least, until it came to her. His scent drew her in, and the heat of his body tempted her beyond reason. His whiskers tickled her cheek, reminding her of his rough and tough facade he wore. The smooth curve of his chest softened under her gentle fingers and she felt every breath he took. His heart was beating as quickly as hers, and she considered perhaps he was also struggling.

Each moment was excruciatingly slow and when his hand slid down her navel, he felt her muscles flinch and her soft belly cave in under his touch. She inhaled sharply when his fingers continued to explore, and a tingling sensation spread from the nub of her pleasure center outwards through her body, coaxing another soft moan from her lips.

“I do not want to ruin you. Stop me, please, if you wish.”

The deeper tones of his voice were music to her ears, and she wanted to hear her name on his lips. She wanted to hear him utter his pleasure and be damned the rest.

Grace gathered her strength to manage a response, conveyed softly to her would-be lover, “No Ben, please don’t stop.”

She rose up on her toes and pulled him down to her, kissing him more insistently. Grace didn’t want to stop.

He encircled her body with his arms, as his head dipped to press his lips back into hers. It meant his hand had to leave the more carnal parts of her need, but this moment was about response. She met his question with passion. This was beyond just taking what he wished, her kiss pulled at him - as if taking her in this quiet grove wouldn’t just be to fulfill his bodily wants, but to fill his heart.

The kiss seemed forever, yet never long enough. His mouth opened to taste her, his tongue feeling hers. The heat of their breath against his lips as much as the moisture exchanged by the both of them. His hands moved against her back, brushing up her loose clothing, whatever was left of them, and cared little if they were there.

When he broke the kiss, he leaned back slightly. He was sure his look was that of a stunned deer, amazed by the power of the passion she brought, amazed that someone could make him feel so strongly. He was sure his solid manhood was pressed against her during the kiss, sure that she would have known it complete. Yet she still looked that nervous virgin willing.

His mind reminded him that he was a gentleman, and as much as his need was, a compromise came to him. Do this right, it said.

He bent, slid his hands around her legs, and picked her up. It wasn’t effortless,but cradled in his arms with a hand around her back he walked slowly to the spread blanket like a man carrying his wife across the threshold. As he arrived at their resting area, he knelt carefully and placed her onto the blanket.

With her to the blanket one arm cradled around her neck where had carried her, his other hand slid once more to her pelvis. As his fingers once more moved downward to the top of her sex he whispered, “I ask that you trust, that I do what I can to ready you. To make this feel good for you. It is the least …” he stopped and breathed fearful of the word he would use, just as it left his lips, “my love.”

Love.

To Grace, it was not only possible, but it could be lasting. From the moment she laid eyes on Ben, she knew she wanted more. Enchanted by that boyish charm and his sense of propriety, Grace found herself lost in goodness of his heart. She felt his vulnerability and his desire for peace, reminding her they were two people placed in an extraordinary situation. Laying there across the blanket, nestled up against his warm body, her world had become much smaller. Ben was the sum of her desire and zest for life. Grace wanted more than anything, to show him what that meant to her.

Grace reached upwards, sliding her small hands across his jaw line and coming to rest at the back of his neck. She slowly pulled him down to her, eagerly kissing him once again. The heat of her passion touched him again as she sought to taste him, entwining her tongue with his. Her soft moan remained in the depth of her throat, resonating delightfully. She enjoyed the strength and taste of his lips, as if his passion rested heavily upon them, sweetening them for her benefit.

Her tummy caved under the light touch of his fingertips, and pleasure washed over her, spreading the heat of his touch down between her legs. With his touch leaving behind and electrified tingle, Grace squirmed momentarily. Had it been any other, Grace wouldn’t have found herself begging his attention. For Benjamin Shepard however, the normally calm and collected woman now spread her trembling thighs a little, exposing the delicate folds of her virginal flesh and easing the heat that gathered there. It was a very wanton move, spurred by a growing need to have him fill her.

“I trust you…” she murmured against his welcoming lips, before drawing him once again into the depths of her kiss, and laying his fears to rest.

Between her kisses, he could feel her hot breath slide across his lips. He relished the feel of her delicate hands across his jaw. Yet it was the opening of her thighs that brought on further desire. The encouragement that she allowed herself to be touched, even if her likely newness to these touches would be unknown to her.

He extended three fingers to crest over her womanhood. At first they stroked as the silken hairs that blanketed her soft skin. Moving slowly to extend and withdrawal, rubbing her body, they dared further down with each stroke. As they eased at the juncture of her legs, he could feel the swells of her labia slide between his fingers, and the ridge of a nubbin grace the tip of his middle finger. He stopped his progression there, willing to let her feel the caress of his fingers on his fingers outside and pressing at the sensitive parts exposed.

He turned his head slightly, letting his cheek to rest against hers. “It is your trust, so trusting, that is what you give to me now.” He spoke starting to lose his own senses. “That is what makes you all the more beautiful.”

The stroking on her sex was gentle, intimate. They were as much careful to not challenge her desire but to ignite it. The way he lay on his side with his hand at her womanhood, his bare arm crossed her breasts and now he became aware of the heat arising from them as well. Or was it his own heat, to be touching such supple flesh and his own need.

“I promise to not let you regret that trust,” he breathed. “I promise to reward that trust.”

His touch was achingly light against her and the heat that rose from his fingers slowly spread across the swelling feminine flesh. She had rarely touched her own body that when his fingers finally dared to explore her, the tingle that had griped her spread throughout, both across her flesh and deep within her. What more could she possibly ask for than to be held with such care in the arms of such a man.

He could hear her soft gasps and felt her body flinch when he fingers stroked her. Grace tried to remain still and she closed her eyes briefly, to enjoy every touch. The heat in her belly rose and she released another breath. His skilled, strong hands knew how to touch a woman and while that would normally shock the gentile society, Graced rejoiced in it now and the moments passed sweetly.

His gentleness filled her, giving her the strength to be vulnerable and open to him. She purred softly when his cheek came to rest against hers, feeling his breath wash over her skin and she took his breath into her own.

“I know you will,” she whispered in return, her small hand brushing over his that already lay at the juncture of her legs. “I believe in your heart,” she added. “Know me, feel me… love me,” she begged softly.

Ben chose to be more assertive at that point. She was opening up, allowing him to explore, and she seemed in need of something far more than simple touches. So he relinquished more of whatever was left of his proper gentleman ways.

His middle finger separated the folds of her sex. It dragged along the growing nubben at the top of her opening. It split the tight inner lips. It entered her body, and moved until it found resistance just passed the tip of his finger. Just as it brushed at the limited depth, he pulled the finger back out. Again as his finger tip just met the top of her labia, he slid it forward and returned the tip inside her body.

His mouth now moved down her chest with determination. It kissed across Grace’s soft orbs until a nipple popped between his lips. He focused on a pattern, sucking in on her breast while sliding a finger into her vagina. His hot breah escaped hot and wet; much like the growing moisture building from his finger like a bucket dipping into a well.

Under his hand, her body became a furnace, and the heat was becoming intoxicating. The pace continued to speed up, and he realized he was getting sloppy with his hand. Once plunging too aggressively into her sex and pressed hard on her maidenhead. Once nearly sending a second finger in when it felt at the opening. Once missing her opening completely and brushing against her puckered rose and tempting to move in. Yet he remained focused on her pleasure, focused on showing her what can be achieved if she was his. What lay ahead.

He played her body like a fine instrument, encouraging her to arch and gasp when his fingers grew bolder. The heat that was threatening to engulf her, burned, deeply. Grace, who had stood there on the front porch, proper and controlled, was transforming into a totally different woman before his eyes. Under his touch, he felt her breathing shift, quickening, with her growing arousal, and her hips rocked forward almost eagerly, wanting the sensations to continue.

She trembled then with the quickening pace of his fingers, and she felt an indescribable tingling sensation spread from the juncture of her legs up through her belly. Her fingers never felt quite like this. Grace dropped her hands to Ben’s ears and ran her fingertips down his neck, keeping his mouth secure on her breast. Her flesh responded in kind, tightening and firming under the warmth that was his mouth.

His persistence would be rewarded. Each time he stroked over her feminine flesh, the pleasure that was racing through her intensified. Her soft gasps had ebbed, replaced by her moans. She had no control over how she responded to him. Her body continued to ache and her mind was lost in the sensations he was drawing from her. He could hear the shift in her responses, and when the pleasure had mounted to the point he had put her on the edge, he urged her over and she cried out for him.

Ben was acutely aware of her arousal, was more than aware her climax was at hand. He succled onto her breasts as they pressed upward into his mouth. He brightened the pace of his finger against her sex. He breathed between kisses feeling his own arousal in the pumping of his heart. The act of giving her pleasure making his just that much more forthcoming.

Then she was there.

Her fragile body seemed to shudder under him. He could feel the waves of reaction on his fingers in her neathers, followed closely by moisture flowing from her lips. He stopped the movement of his fingers, cupping her mons stroking the wetness into her skin. Her fully erect nipples were met his tongue as the stout ends of her breasts shared her full body release. As she slowed her climax his mouth left her breast, kissing up her chest and finding her neck.

His movement, his slow shifting body, lead him to be laying over top her stimulated body. He slowly slid his hand up her stomach until it found a place at her side. In it’s place, his hardness came to rest on her pelvis. His need was too great now to not attempt the next step. Every effort he made to be the gentleman soldier now was ignored by his manhood. He lay himself so that he remained outside her opening, but wedged between her labia. Slowly he stroked so the underside of his member started to slicken by her wetness.

All the while his eyes remained locked on hers. Even if he couldn’t stop his body it felt like he still wanted to ensure she could stop him. But then, he felt that point was already past.

The time had indeed past. Grace was still coming down from the sudden elevation and wave of climax and her eyes reflected that burning need she was feeling. Every teasing stroke of his manhood kept her wanting more. All she knew was that she could feel his body’s warmth, the tingling that remained in her own body, and how indescribably good she felt in this moment.

Incredible.

Grace could sense that Ben was barely holding on by a thread. Here was the young gentleman soldier, pushed to his tolerance. She knew it. She knew he would fight it as long as he could. She didn’t want to fight it and she didn’t want him to either. Grace just wanted him. Grace was lost in his gaze, but the tingling in her body increased with each passing moment. He could make her feel so good. She knew she was wet. The slow trickle down her backside was proof. She ran her small fingers up his arms and grasped him, pulling him down to her. Grace kissed Ben again, sucking and nipping at his bottom lip. “You’re such a patient man,” she murmured against his lips.

Grace shifted her hips forward and up against Ben, feeling his firm length pressing against her. She wanted to see his face as he satisfied the needs of both of them, so she let him go. Anything she had heard in the distance was now silent with Grace’s focus completely on Ben. The scent of his body was strong, reminding her of the earthy scents she was used to. She could hear his breathing and feel it as he took each breath. She loved being under him and would follow his lead to the very end.