Hiding the Accused (Closed)

The morning air kindly helped cool George’s skin where it breached the surface of the water. Likely later in the day the pond will grow warmer in the daytime sun, but at this time it had a calming feel to it. Enough that it didn’t take long for George to feel more comfortable - not just with the temperance of the water, but with the demons that chased him out of the cabin. The demons, yes, but not the feel.

Lydia still laid up against him, at least in the way his body felt she was still there. She was a like a ghost now, the curve of her rump against his hips, the shape of her breast against his hand. It was only clear in his head for only moments, but his body remembers every bit of her body.

And it makes his body react.

George began floating on his back, allowing himself to slowly drift towards the edge of the pond. His head, his chest, and his feet broke the water; but in a most sensitive way so was his hardening member. He remembered the way when he grew stiff that morning how it slid it's way against Lydia’s curves. How it almost seemed they fit together like two parts of a table. He thought how they may lay together again tonight. How he may do things differently. What he could have done. If she let him, what he could also touch, could also feel.

The water was so shallow now that where he came to rest only took a couple of shifts and he was lying in the soft grass at the shore. Lying in the warm sun, his hand moved down to what had become solid. In the back of his head, he thought maybe if he took care of himself, like he had done in the dark covers at home, he would be more gentlemanly with Lydia; yet that washed quickly with the thoughts returning of what lay under Lydia’s shifts, what he may see as this adventure continues, what her breast may feel like free of her clothing.

There were no other thoughts than his imagination. No other feeling than his hand running over his manhood. He had left the world around him behind, and focused just on his visions of his sweetheart and the touch of his own skin.

Stepping quickly along the trail, the bucket swinging in her hand as she hummed a song, Lydia forgot the way she had awakened with George’s hand on her breast.
Taking a turn in the path, she came upon a clearing filled with bushes and flowers, and a pond. Now that she was out of the wood, the sun shone brightly down on her and she paused to raise a hand to her brow to shield her eyes.

This had to be the place that he had mentioned, there had been no other paths leading away from the cabin except for the one that had brought them their yesterday. Scanning the pond, she saw him in the distance. There in the water, but not swimming nor bathing as far as she could tell.

Concerned that something might be wrong, Lydia set the bucket down and made her way along the edge until she was closer. She could see that his eyes were closed from this distance and she rushed to the water’s edge.

“George!” She called. “Are you okay?” Her skirt quickly became wet as she drew closer to him. She could feel it starting to cling to her legs as she tried to make her way to his side.

All the while, all she could think was that she hoped that nothing was wrong, that he was okay. He had been such a good friend to her, she couldn’t lose that now. And, she had never felt his kiss.

George’s head lay still in the water, the gentle waves of coolness sliding over his heated forehead. Lying naked in the pond was soothing, and calming after the utter embarrassment of how he awoke, and now left alone with nothing but the water surrounding him he could feel comfort from everywhere. His ears were submerged, making any noise from above the surface become muted into an aquatic hum. Even the wind kicking up the ripples seemed to pull away any hint of the world away from his imagination.

And his imagination had grown vivid.

In the depths of his mind, the heavy skirts and dresses Lydia wore fell away and she was left in a brilliant glow of innocence. He dreamed of the way the color of her flesh changed on the tops of her perfect breasts. He could see how the lines over her pelvis drew his attention downward to the downy fluff he envisioned hiding her womanhood. In this dream, her hair was let loose, blowing in the wind as she reached for him and opened up to allow him to take her as his own.

In his dream state, he was oblivious to the world outside of himself. Eyes closed, ears submerged, and breath heavy; he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching. As he lay nude in the pond, he gently tugged on his stiff member, gasping as the pleasure of his dreams led him slowly towards greater heights. Gone was the fear of the witch hunt from town. Gone was the gutting embarrassment of the way they woke that morning. All that was in his senses now was the feel of his hand, and the dream that was Lydia.

The water was warm and still in the pond except for the waves she caused as she moved toward George. Lydia wished that she had taken off her skirt and left it on the shore so that she could move faster; the heavy skirts were constricting her movement and slowing her down.

As she drew near to where George floated, Lydia thought of how she had rebuffed him this morning and how she wish now that she hadn’t. Her mind flitted quickly with thoughts of how she could have allowed him to continue touching and how she might have enjoyed it. Right now, though, she needed to make sure he was okay.

“George,” she called out again as she came alongside him, her hand reached out to touch his shoulder. A small movement at his waist drew her attention from his face and she saw his hand moving. Relief flooded through her a split second before she realized what she had come upon, but it was too late. There was no way to draw her hand back, and it landed on his shoulder at the same moment she became aware that he was stroking his manhood.

Lydia inhaled sharply at the sight of his hand moving down the hard length, the tip round and glistening. She couldn’t take her eyes from him, not only because this was the first time she had ever seen a man in this position, but because it made her stomach tighten and her heart pound.

There are ways a man should behave. There are ways a man should react. There is the right and the wrong thing to do. There is what is brutish, there is what is shameful, there is what is proper. There is so many things George should have done, would have normally done, but this dream continued, and his reactions became as foreign to himself as the feelings that Lydia gave him.

Lydia hovered over his naked body, her hand on his shoulder. In thoughtful, right thinking times, he should have curled up, hid himself from her innocent eyes, and moved away to give her no more shame. He should pack up his things and leave her, fight for her protection in ways that is no longer an embarrassment to her. Maybe then she would forget, maybe she would forgive.

But his mind thought none like this.

All it thought was, Lydia was looking at where his hand lay, and she was not looking away.

He should have wilted, should have let the humiliation of the moment let it all die. Instead, her eyes on him, her body a breath from his … it made it firmer.

“I was bathing,” he breathed in a half explaination.

He sat up slightly, pulling his head from the water, but not much more than lifting up his torso. His bottom found rest in the shallow water, and his hips and all that lay above it remained exposed.

“I was too tired to swim,” came another half explaination.

He shifted his grip on member, sliding his hand down the bottom of it’s length, exposing more of it to her eyes. He looked up at her, saw how she watched it, and could feel the hardness jerk in need.

His next came out without stopping to think what it meant, but still tried to explain in its small way, “I thought of you.”

He leaned his head back, finding her leg where she leaned down so close to him. He wanted to just feel the touch of her, any of her against him.

“When I think of you … I … can’t help it.”

His hand slid back up the length, cupping the head with the top fingers. When they slid back, the first drops of his desire emerged and greased the flesh on his movement down.

He looked skywards to her angelic face, framed by the morning daylight surrounding her in all her beauty. She was like the dream he was having, but she was here now, in the flesh, inches from his own full manhood. Except she remained clothed. With that same quiet confidence he spoke to offer that to change.

“Your dress is getting wet.”

OOC: I'm back! Thank you for waiting!

Lydia stood there next to him without moving. She knew that she should look away, proper decorum dictated that. She should turn away, cover her eyes, run away… yet, she watched his hand moving steadily as he spoke to her quietly.

She had never seen anything like this. Of course, after changing the babies she knew how things were different between a male and a female, but this was different. This was so different, and yet she still didn’t turn away.

George’s words caught her attention…

“When I think of you….”

What did he mean?

“Your dress is wet.”

Then, it dawned on her. Last night. This morning. Being undressed had caused him to think of her, had caused him to be here on his back in the water, stroking his manhood.

Swallowing hard, she looked at him and found he was looking up at her as he spoke. What should she say, what should she do? Slowly, she allowed her mind to think of what was surely unthinkable and found that she was feeling things she had never felt before. She could feel an ache in her stomach that reached all the way down between her legs.

Moving her hand away from his shoulder, Lydia turned and made her way up from the water to the grass and, as he watched her, she unfastened her skirt and let it fall to the ground at her feet. She had no plan, she had no thought except that this was what she wanted in this moment of time, and who other than them would ever know?

She waiting determining whether or not she should go back in the water, then simply held out her hand to him.

Welcome Back .. and there was symbolism in: "His patience was rewarded"

George’s mind hung in blank stillness like a vine clutching to the branch of a tree. She had left his side, arising from the water and moving away from his exposed body. Nothing hid from her, whether it be flesh or soul. Without saying it, he had granted her access to his true feelings for her. It was all bare for her to see. Her only reaction was to lift away from the water, though there was a mannerism to it that suggested it was more than just to escape this. The previous times when he left himself embarrassed, she had spoken to him about it. Disapproved verbally if not convincingly. This time she was wordless. In that silence, the blankness of his mind failed to even fester shame. No more than he had felt when he first realized she was there. It was as if his mind begged him to wait. It was as if he felt patience would be rewarded.

When she dropped her skirt, his patience was rewarded.

Lydia’s remaining garments still covered her mostly, but the action spoke louder than words ever could. Those unspoken words still failed to settle completely with George. This would be new ground. This would be beyond what they had ever spoken about before, ever suggested before. Only when she offered her hand to him did he accept that she accepted it as well. Finally, his mind firmed on what needed to be done. His mind realized what it was his to do. So it was time to do it.

George slowly arose from the pond. Water beaded and dripped down his naked body, leaving glistening trails across his chest and down his strong legs. He felt like he was emerging from the water like a mythical creature coming forth for the maiden; which his confident steps towards her only seemed to add to that presence in his head. When he reached her, he felt like he grew taller, and now seemed to tower over his schoolmate. His hand found hers and held it in answer to her unspoken offer.

The other hand moved up to her face, and slid lightly across her cheek. His fingers trailed down to her neck and circled her shoulder. His eyes remained locked on hers, made no effort to look away, made no hint of a wish to do so. He felt like kissing her, wanted to kiss her, but something about that moment that made him worry about further awkwardness. Yet it seemed the next viable disire seemed more real. His fingers found the buttons on the loose undergarment top, and pulled them open as they trailed down her chest until he found the appropriately loose. He released her hand, and both of his found the shoulders of her top, They separated the straps until they reached the edge of her shoulders and fell.

Finally his eyes broke contact with hers, looked downward at what he now exposed, and gasped at the beauty of what he saw.

She held her breath as she watched him emerge from the water naked, the sun basking on his skin as the trails of water moved toward the earth. Her eyes took in each detail of his body: the strong, muscular arms from years of working on a farm; his wide chest; his… she stopped at his waist before continuing… his manhood swinging between his legs as he made his way toward her. He was magnificent. Each step brought him closer, yet she felt no compunction to turn and run. This was what she wanted, and she knew he wanted it just as much.

Beginning to breathe again as he took her hand, Lydia watched him silently as he reached to caress her cheek gently and waited for his kiss. Surely, this would be the moment that their lips would meet and they would both know the tenderness of their first kiss. But, George refrained. Instead, she felt his fingers at the buttons as he unfastened them and felt them push aside her garment leaving her breasts bare for him to gaze upon.

Her creamy white mounds were rising steadily with each breath she took and she wondered what he was thinking as he gasped. Had he expected more? Did he like what he saw? Did he find her lacking? The thoughts almost made her want to cover herself and run away like a fawn hiding in the woods, but she pushed aside the shame that started to fill her. No, she wouldn’t let shame take away the moment of his discovery. Of their discovery.

Already she could feel the air delicately move across her skin and the dark circles of her nipples began to wrinkle as her nipples hardened. Looking at him, her chin lifted almost defiantly as she sought to know his thoughts, Lydia placed her hands on his chest. Without thinking she turned her head slightly in a way that tacitly dared him to kiss her.

They were perfect.

Lydia’s breasts rose perfectly from her chest towards him in all their glory. Small orbs that curved in perfect tandem leading up to the rosy colors and eager nipples. In all his long visions and dreams of what she may look like under her clothes, never could he have believed that they would be so beautiful. Yes, he had held one not just short breaths ago as they lay in bed, but the vision of them now took the breath from his lungs. Perfect. Wonderfully perfect.

When his eyes rose up to her, doing anything to try to say something to be appreciated of what she allowed, he saw the tilt of her head and the raise of her neck. George may not recognize what she desired by his instincts did. Whatever separation the two had now closed, and he leaned down drawing his face closer to his. When their lips touched, he tasted the sweetness of her skin on his. He would open his mouth slightly to taste more, giving warm kisses against her tender lips. As he did, his arms encircled her waist where the last of her undergarments hung. This brought them against one another, her exposed breasts now pressing into his chest.

His fingers found the last of those garments, pushing them over her hips. He remained careful for any resistance, careful to stop if he pushed her beyond what she was ready to allow him to do. Yet he wanted her like he, free of any of the burdens of clothing, naked and free. Like the great yoke of all that was supposed to be proper and decent that he had been taught since childhood now released in the arms and lips of this girl.

Was there such a thing as a sweet fire? If there was then it was surely what she felt as his lips touched hers for the first time. It made her want to melt against him at the exact time that she felt him push aside the garments that still clung to her, bunching on the ground at her feet. She never felt them. Lydia was caught up in the warmth of their bodies as he pulled her close and the only thought that entered her mind was....finally.

Finally, she was where she had wanted to be for years. Finally, she could taste his lips and didn't have to wonder any longer what it would feel like, what he would taste like. Her arms snaked around his neck and pulled his head down so that his lips were pressed against hers again.

Lydia could feel her body flush with heat, but it wasn't shame. All the shame that Lydia should feel at being naked with a man who was not her husband lay in the heap among her clothing. There was no place for it. What she felt was the desire that had begun days ago when she had seen him digging, half naked and sweating. Desire that continued to grow each moment that she was in his arms. She had no idea how they were going to quench it. She didn't think about it, she wasn't thinking at all. She only knew that this was something she would never regret.

This was the culmination of such a long period of want. Lydia, the girl George secretly carried a flame for since boyhood. Lydia the lovely creature whom trusted him enough to run away and hide on his word alone. Lydia the girl who didn’t hate him for such forward touches like what happened in bed or at the lake. Now she stood, in his arms, relenting to his kiss, and exposed like Eve was to Adam.

His reward was not only reaching this point in their budding love, but that she revealed herself to be so beautiful to him. In his arms, he could feel how her soft curves melted into his, both firm and supple. It lit a greater desire to touch, to feel, to know.

His hand moved upwards from her hips where he freed her of her clothing and chanced its way to her breast. Sliding between their bodies, it wasn’t long before it encircled the firm curves. Her hardened nipple brushed against his rough palm, and tickled at his skin. He gave soft, gentle caress to her flesh, not trying to maul her, or kneed unwantingly. No, she was something to cherish, and each touch was meant to do just that. His other hand circled around her bottom and lifted on the soft curve there. His fingertips felt the pull of what lay between her legs, and the need to explore that most forbidden of places.

It was there that George hovered. In the grand mix of wanting to explore the female form, to celebrate the sensations she received from his touch, and to love the woman that so deserved such admiration. Even with the certainty that greater feelings were to come, this was the greatest moment of his young life. None but Lydia could have made him feel this way.

She felt his hands touching her in ways no man had ever done, softly gliding over her bare skin, gripping her bottom and ... then he stopped. She felt him hesitate and pulled back slightly to look into his eyes.

Did he not like what his hands had found? Had she been too forward? Searching his face without speaking, Lydia waited to see what would transpire. So intent on his face, she didn't realize that she was gently stroking the back of his neck as she gazed up at him. Didn't realize she was biting her lip in a worrisome fashion.

Maybe she was wrong to feel this way, but she didn't want him to stop. She wasn't exactly sure what it was she wanted, but stopping at this moment wasn't it.

There was something in the way she bit her lip that melted away so much of George’s worries. He became so caught up in what she was making him feel, was so caught up in the way the touch of her was so undeniable to him; only the curiosity that hid in the stretches of that simple gesture with her lip seemed to wake him from that state. He was not so ignorant to believe a girl could not feel pleasure from this kind of contact, but now … now it seemed she was a curious of his touch as he was. It seemed she wanted to be touch as much as he.

Maybe it was the nervousness of the situation, but he couldn’t help to break the silence. He took a quick look down to where his hand was on her breast then returns to lock his eyes into hers. With a crack of a smile he breathed, “Sorry, Lydia, I just … didn’t think they would be so … soft.” It was freeing, like a confession of sorts, admitting his hand, now once more making smooth circles over her fullness, was caressing her form in ways a decent man shouldn’t. “They’re soft … and warm … and … beautiful.”

His other hand, which had found a home on the small of her back, moved lower until it slid over the curve of her bottom. Equally firm and equally soft, he allowed his fingers to move until it fell under the curve of a small cheek. The effect kept them that much closer; and now the member he so bashfully tired to hide it’s arousal before stood between them unafraid to be nearly touching Lydia.

Her hand on his neck made him lean forward, until their foreheads were touching intimately. “I’m not hurting you, am I? Tis that I’ve never put my hands on a girl. Like this of course.”

Relief flooded through her as he broke the silence with his words. Not once did it occur to her that she should pull away from their embrace, that she shouldn't be here half undressed with his hands caressing her. They had grown up together in a society that would have been scandalized by their actions today, but none of that crossed her mind even as he leaned forward and reminded her that his hands were on her body...as if she needed to be reminded.

"No," she whispered with a slight smile, "you aren't hurting me. I know you would never do that." And, it was true. He would do everything in his power to keep her safe. Isn't that why they were here alone to begin with?

Lydia didn't feel the need to tell him that she herself had never touched a man or been touched by one until today. As she stood there she could feel the heat of his body; he was so close she could feel each breath he took.. and all she could do was close her eyes and kiss his lips gently as his hand closed around her breast.

For here, there was no turning back.

He breathed a little breath of relief. Trust was such a beautiful thing. Trust from a beautiful creature that much more so. He tilted his head and kissed her more intently, opening his mouth to taste her lip among his. To lick at her lightly. To allow the heat of her breath flush against his skin. As he kept kissing her he felt his blood thump through his veins, his hair stand tall, his neck burn with heat … and his excitement take him to the brink without her even touching his member.

He broke the kiss, breathing heavy, and did a quick look down at her body. With a quick grin her huffed, “you dress too warmly.”

George fell to his knees, as if he falling in front of the Holy Mother herself, and seemed to be on the verge of worshipping the girl standing in front of him. In his own way, that is what he wanted to do like nothing else. His hands slid along her sides, fell to her hips, and grasped the last of her skirts that still held at her waist.

“If I may,” he breathed, and began to pull the last that kept her covered away.

She had been caught up in the feel of his lips on hers and the delight that was causing her body, and when he stopped she still stood with her eyes closed waiting for another taste of him.

Instead, she heard him say something about her dress and felt him move. Lydia opened her eyes to find him kneeling before her gazing on her naked breasts before looking up.

"If I may" he breathed, and as he began to removed the last of the clothing covering her, she held her breath. She watched his hands and his face and it never once occurred to her to tell him to stop. This was what she had wanted for a long time, what she had thought about as she sang the song taught to her by the widow on the path just a few days before, and what she continued to want now more than ever.

Lydia smiled down as he finished undressing her, her hands moving to his shoulders as she stepped away from the wet mess at her feet.

The air rushed from George’s lungs. Never had he seen a woman bared to his eyes. Never had he dreamed of seeing a woman bared so close to those eyes. Never had he dreamed that such a view would be so wonderful, so beautiful. The perfect turn of Lydia’s hips moved to smooth lines across her pelvis. The way her covering of hair just seemed ot point downward to what must be heaven.

All he could do was lean forward, and place his lips softly on her mons. To kiss this which seemed so beautiful to him. He could feel the heat from her skin, the gentle shake of nervousness, the firmness of muscle under flesh.

His hands, leaving the last of her clothing on the ground, touched the backs of her legs. The slowly slid their way up, as he felt like he was embracing her lower body against him like when they stood together a short time before. He kissed again, his lower lip toying with where a cleft began. Encouraged he kissed lower, so close to what lay beneath, so close to so much more.

That realization made him a little aware of the forwardness of his actions. George sheepishly looked up to the girl’s eyes. With a smirk he said, “I shouldn’t be so wicked … should I.”

Lydia had been standing silently, her hands on his shoulders, watching as George kissed her so close to her most private part. His hands were on the back of her thighs as she stood there naked with the breeze softly blowing. Her breathing deepened as he tenderly kissed her again, much lower than before.

This feels wonderful

Should I let him continue

We aren't married

But it feels wonderful

She was so caught up in the thoughts filling her mind and the feel of his hands and his lips, that when he suddenly looked up at her and spoke, she gasped. Then, as she understood his words, she bit her lip.

Wicked...
Should they be wicked and continue?
What would people say...but, who would know?


People were going to talk anyway when they knew that Lydia and George had been alone all night together. They would think they were wicked anyway.

"Why not?" she answered him softly, her fingers tracing his bottom lip.

"I want to be wicked, too."

There was something about her answer that seemed to make George feel like a horse freed from it’s stocks. The weight of control and good manners cast aside with all the freedom that comes with unbound hope. It was not as if she gave him free will to do what he wished with her, but it was confirmation that this moment and what moments awaited ahead of them, were at the very least welcome.

She had slid her finger along his lip, and he naturally bent his face up towards her. He leaned in, and his chin rested against the gentle curve of her mons. He could feel a warmth, greater than the normal warmth of skin, arising from this area. He let his instinct take him, and he curled his head downward until his lips once again pressed into her flesh just below her navel. He kissed, fluttering kiss, downward, even across the light brush of hair that hid the last of he modesty.

His hands explored her body as well. Lydia’s thin form felt soft and gentled under his touch. He moved a hand up to her breast, it’s reach above his head now, to gently cup her curve. The other hand did similar but around to her supple bottom. Yet that, instead of the lifting and caressing of it’s brother, danced along her crevice and dared to dip to where the fingertips shouldn’t got.

George’s thin experience did little to guide his attentions, but that may have worked in his favor at this point. For his actions now were truly wicked. He only cared now what his curiosity pulled him towards, only cared that his curiosity wasn’t refused.

As his chin pushed further between Lydia’s thighs, he could feel his lip brush against something more. Like the lips that he knew only by word, not by touch. That what made her the woman that she was. His lower lip brushed against it again, and he reached to brush against it further.

Lydia watched something in his eyes change as she spoke her words. Where there had been trepidation, now there was something glimmering and wild. It truly made her feel caught up in a whirlwind and flamed the desire that had kindled inside her. There was no more need to ask whether they should continue, what others would think of their wantonness . She had abandoned the feeling of shame - if she had truly even felt it.

Wherever his hand had touched there was a tingle, but nothing compared to the heat and the stirring that his kisses were causing in that delicate place at the top of her legs. Her hands were on his shoulders as his lips brushed against her, and her legs drew slightly apart giving him more access as he dipped his mouth to her again and again.

Watching him became to much and she closed her eyes, raising her face toward the warmth of the sun as he brought shivers to her body. Her fingers had become tangled in his thick hair and, without realizing it, she had begun to pull him in closer to kiss her lightly.

This was the gift that she was supposed to give her husband on their wedding night, but she wasn't going to stop him. It was too late to return to the hunting cabin and pretend that nothing had changed between them. To return home and act as if nothing had happened.

Even if it stopped now, things would never be the same. And, right now, she needed him not to stop.

No books, no studies, no instruction prepared George for this. Neither the bawdy talks of the other boys, or the hints of things overheard at the tavern or the store. He knew enough of what it means to make a child, knew that it comes with some pleasure and delight; but knew it meant placing himself into her. This, this was different. This was the view of it close and present. No longer hidden from view, and open for his own exploration. Yet in this moment, he didn’t desire to jump up and push himself into her. It felt as though he had only his instinct, as there was nothing to prepare him for this time.

When Lydia shifted her feet and opened her legs slightly, he moved more direct. His lips, previously brushing against something, now fell upon what it was. Flesh, soft and tender, bending to his reach. The firmness of her things still sided his face, seeming to be the only limitation to his advance; but with the encouragement of her fingers in his hair he didn’t feel denied.

The split he knew existed there became more apparent on his lips. The desire to learn more of this led him to explore with the only thing that could reach. His tongue extended and breached that slip. There was a moistness, and a flavor that was unlike anything he had tasted before. Something in that fold seemed to be more present and firm. Not only that, but there was an unmistakable shiver in her body the moment he bushed there. He lapped at it again, and got a similar reaction. Eager, excited, he moved his tongue more aggressively there. His focus now on that point, uncaring of the world around him, All he knew was he was in a place of unrelenting joy coming simply from this deires to enjoy this place that seemed to give her something in return.

She didn't know that she would sigh with pleasure until she heard it come forth, the only sound that could be heard except for the twitter of birds as they visited one another. Oh, she knew that things like this could be pleasurable - even when you weren't quite sure what these things were - it was hard not to know when you lived in a small cabin... but, they weren't spoken of. They were private. Yet, one still heard the voices and the sounds, and so she knew that it could be a pleasant thing. One that was only shared between a husband and a wife as she had been taught since she was a small child.

But, none of that was going to make her push him away, or make her cover herself and leave him here by the lake. Although it had never quite formed in her mind before now, she knew that this was something she had wanted for a long time. She wanted George's hands on her body, wanted to feel his lips caressing her. She would not have sought it out, but she wasn't going to refuse it. Not when he was making her body shiver and do things she had never imagined.

As his tongue explored the folds of her womanhood, there was an ache starting inside her. She could feel it grow from a small tingle, an excitement, to a need. Her fingers tightened in his hair and she sighed again as she felt a warm liquid start to pool. If his tongue delved further, he would find it... and that thought made her long for his tongue to find it, release it from her body.

"George" she whispered as she opened her eyes to look down on him once again. Lydia had no idea what she wanted to say... she just needed to say his name as her body arched and her delicate lips pushed against his seeking tongue.

In the coolness of this morning, in the fresh air of the forest, in the freedom of any clothing that could keep one warm; it was the temperate feeling of the girl that became the forefront of his touch. Georges hands roamed over her firm thighs, the curve of her bottom, up her taut back; and each place his hand lay he felt warmth … ney, heat … from every sliver of skin. It only caused his hands and fingers to explore further.

Yet George did not leave the exploration to just his hands.

Firmly pressing his face between Lydia’s smooth thighs, he lifted his chin and continued to taste her sex. This was what it felt to be intoxicated, he thought, without the burn of the drink. The smells, the softness, the smoothness, and the little bit of moisture were like a spell cast on him to elicit more, to search more, to bring out more in her. More than anything, it was like his tongue intended to search for something. Then, as his tongue reached deep into her folds, it was like he found it; a pool of warmth that seemed to flow as her body quivered against his reach. He could feel her breaths, her tension, her release as he crested that pool. Whatever it was, whatever she was feeling, it was giving him a greater feeling than ever felt before.

But he also noticed it had a physical toll on her. The way her knees seemed to shift, and her legs seem to falter.

George pulled back slightly, looked up to the girl with a face glistening from her excitement, and stated, “lay down. I do not want you to fall.”

The sudden coolness where his mouth had warmed her and the soft sound of his voice brought her back to their surroundings. Lydia had been so consumed by the touch of his hands and way his mouth had tasted of her that she had forgotten they were by the lake in the morning air, and that she was naked with only the trees and the underbrush surrounding them for privacy.

Her body felt warm, not just on her hips or her back where his hands had been stroking her, but there was a heat inside her that she hadn't felt before. It moved from her core and filled her as if it were a warm liquid spilled on a table, and she was the table.

Still, she did not hesitate to find a place to lay, her clothing beneath her on the cool earth as she watched George standing above her. She lay there vulnerable, open, willing... and never thought to cover herself from his gaze or to feel ashamed. All she thought of was the song she had sang in the wood so recently.

My true love’s face I’ve yet to see.
I know not what his name may be.
But soon his heart will beat for me.
Come hither my love.

So may it be.

Was this the answer then? Did it matter? They were the ones here together at the moment, and the desire he had stirred inside her wasn't something she would turn aside. It wasn't proper. It wasn't something they ought to even consider without the banns read in the church. But, it was here and it was now, and it was wonderful.

Lydia lifted her hand towards George in invitation.

George took her hand, feeling the acknowledgement of this moment, this special place between them. With her hand guiding him, he laid down on the ground next to her. In some ways, his nature told him the next steps to take, the ways to resolve an animalistic need; but something in him had a greater need that wanted out.

George curled an arm around her side, slid a hand up to her face, and cupped her against him gently. He wanted more than anything to look upon her face. See into her eyes. To feel her heartbeat against his. He wanted to hold her, to have her close, to be one with her.

Maybe it was the rush of this what they do. Maybe it was with out anything hiding themselves from each other he couldn’t hide much else about himself. Stripped bare, he offered what was the most protected thought he ever had.

“I love you Lydia,” he breathed. “I always have.”

He leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. “Your heart is mine, as it will always be.”