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FLIGHTS stretch that precious membrane that
"Flights of Fancy" {Pendragon} (Mf pett voy 1st)
IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to
read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do
something else.
This material is Copyright, 2000, Uther Pendragon. All
rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of downloading
and keeping ONE electronic copy for your personal reading so long
as this notice is included. Reposting requires previous
permission.
All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as
public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination
and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly
coincidental.
This is a piece of fiction, not legal advice.
# # # #
FLIGHTS OF FANCY
by Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
Part 1
"Can't catch me!" Leslie said. Her being sixteen to his twenty-
eight was bad enough; these occasional regressions into childhood
always brought Rick a frisson of guilt. He chased her across his
snow-covered fields, though, and caught her easily enough.
It was a Saturday of freedom. They got only a scant hour on
weekdays, between his getting home from the machine shop and
Leslie going home for supper. Time too short for more than
kissing and petting. On Saturdays he got out at eleven. They
could play and talk -- and plan. Time to waste, but time that
they could waste together.
Their kisses were interrupted by her laughter and his need to
breathe. She wrestled playfully until he had his arms around her
and her tight butt squashed against his leg.
"Can too catch you," Rick said. "You're mine now."
"Yes, Rick, all yours. Hold me, make me yours, and I'll never
run away from you again."
"No, sweetheart. The chase is half the fun. And, for moving
four months too soon, the state would put me in prison for much
more than four years. If you are to be mine and I am to be yours
on any more than a spiritual plane, we have to wait until you are
seventeen."
"But only that long," she said. "Tell me we'll be together
then."
"We'll be together then, and in between times, as well. Just not
as together as we would like. You can keep fleeing me; I can
keep chasing you. But you can be chased only so long as you
remain chaste."
"Pthlibit!"
"I don't hide my faults from you, sweetheart," he said. "I'm an
inveterate punster."
"With a show-off vocabulary." She turned to stick her tongue out
at him. He kissed it, and their kiss was long and deep. "But I
like your talk. Since I can't have anything else for four long
months, tell me a story."
He turned her so that he could kiss the back of her ear before
straightening and slipping his hand under her down jacket to hold
her breast. "A the lady wants," he said over the top of
her head. "A the lady shall have."
We might anticipate the time after your seventeenth
birthday. But the time in between won't have been
wasted from my perspective. I'll have talked with
Leslie and held her close.
I'll have kissed her in ways and places that I haven't
done yet. I'll have seen her in this field and in my
yard. I'll have shown her the new foal. Daffodil will
have her foal well before May, perhaps this month.
And as Leslie is a great friend of Daffodil's who has
ridden her many times and petted her previous foals, a
new foal of Daffodil's will have been one more reason
for Leslie to visit. And we will have had many reasons
to spend time in the barn.
Maybe, just perhaps, Leslie and I will have watched
Daffodil's foal from the hayloft. Nobody will have been
able to interrupt us when we are up there without making
a huge clatter first. In the hayloft, she won't have
been able to hide from my kisses and my hugs. Or we
might have decided to watch from an upstairs window.
There, Leslie will have been able to undress without
freezing. And I'll have been privileged to see all of
her beauty at one time. Naked in the cold weather,
Leslie won't have been able to flee from the house.
And I'll have hugged my love, and seen my love. And my
desire for Leslie will have grown. And something else
will have grown, too -- not permanently, but repeatedly.
And I'll have kissed my dearest, kissed her mouth to
mouth, and felt the electric sweetness of her tongue;
I'll have kissed her ears and have felt her wiggle her
hips so cutely against my hardness in her attempts to
escape, that I'll have wanted -- wanted desperately --
to drive my hardness into that wiggle. But I won't have
done so. I'll merely have added that desire to so many
others, waiting the right time.
And that will have taken us only into the last,
lingering death of winter, not the birth of spring.
She squirmed around in his arms to kiss him. They hugged until
he turned his back to adjust his stiffness within his trousers.
He held her with her back to his front again, and blew across her
hair.
"Somehow," she said, "I suspect that you have something planned
for the spring."
"In the spring," he said. "The mares will come into heat. Now
Daffodil will have a well-deserved rest next year, but I plan to
breed Delilah... and Dafney."
"Is she enough?"
"She's a mare, sweetheart. She is enough, or will be by
then. Horses grow up fast. Remember when she was a baby foal.
You came over to see her, and it was the first time that we
really talked."
"You thought I was a baby, too."
"You were a delightful child, hardly a baby, and a beauty even
then. But you didn't have these." He took a few minutes to
reach back under her jacket to play with her through
shirt and bra. "I am going to show you so much in the next four
months. Anyway, my Leslie wanted a story."
My Leslie is pure quicksilver. I'll chase her again and
again; I'll catch her again and again; I'll hold her
like this again and again. But however tight I'll hold
her, I'll never completely possess her. So I'll need a
new bait to trap her, a new bait every time she flees.
Maybe a new caress when I run her down, maybe a new
place to kiss her, maybe a new sight out in my barnyard.
So I'll show her so many things. I'll show her what the
books say about women like herself and like me.
I'll show her how the handle passions like ours.
For we are animals, too, but with a stronger
will. We can anticipate the future; we can hold
ourselves back, hard as I find it, to make the future
last.
But I'll show my love the ways of the animals. I'll
bring in a stallion some Saturday when Delilah is ready.
She'll flee, but want to be caught. We'll see the
stallion pursue her. Then I'll hold my love while we
watch the stallion mount her, and cover her, and thrust
into her. I'll tell my love, while we watch and I
caress her here and here, that this is the way of the
male.
For I am male and my love is female. And the stallion's
thrust will hold the promise of my thrust. And
Delilah's acceptance will be the paradigm I will show my
love. I will say that she should be prepared to accept
my thrust in the same way. And after I have shown her
that, I will pursue her until she must show me something
else. I will, for only the second time, see the
membrane which guards her entry. Which will still be
the membrane which guards our future.
With any luck whatsoever, Dafney will come late to heat
as she did last year. If not, she will come back in
heat in April. And before Dafney comes into her April
heat, I will show my love that Dafney has a membrane
quite like Leslie's. If Delilah will be an exemplar to
Leslie as to behavior, Dafney will be a representation
as to her state.
When Dafney is in full heat, I will show my love
something different from an experienced mare's
flirtatious running to invite her mate's pursuit. I'll
show her the serious maiden flight of a new mare from
the stallion who holds more fear than hope for her. But
there is only so much room in the corral, after all, and
that stallion will desire the pleasures which he has
previously experienced much more than Dafney will fear
the totally unknown. He'll end her flight. He'll
corner her. He'll nip her flank, and -- never having
tolerated that before -- she'll stand still while he
does. I'll hold my love while Dafney quivers. Then the
stallion will rise up and mount her, while her
quiverings double at the startling weight.
I'll watch that mounting and imagine my own, which will
be much closer in time by then. I'll think of the
in my arms, and her in my arms again but without
the impediments. I'll see the thrust of the stallion
and let it suggest my own. I'll harden and press that
hardness against my love only a few inches from where
that hardness belongs.
And I'll remind my love that Dafney stands where she
will soon lie and tell her that her flight will avail no
more than Dafney's. And I will hug my love so tight in
my arms while the stallion thrusts home. And I will let
that prefigure my thrust, nearer and nearer in our
future.
And we will watch as the stallion's thrust breaks
through Dafney's membrane. I will hold my love as she
sees a mare being filled by a stallion which is
indifferent to the mare's wishes. We will watch the
mare's fear and uncertainty tremble under his weight,
and certainty, and lust. And I will wonder how much
fear and uncertainty my love has, whatever her
protestations; but I will look forward to the time that
I approach my love with certainty, and an overpowering
lust, and even weight. But I will restrain that lust
while we watch the horses as tightly as I restrain the
body of my beloved. I will hold her tight from the time
of the loosing of the stallion until the mating of the
beasts is quite done.
When the horses are done, fully done, I will show my
love that Dafney is now completely open; but I'll show
her very carefully, since Dafney will not be in a mood
to be touched back there.
And, when Leslie has seen all that, I'll take her back
to the house. There, flee as she might wish too, I'll
catch her and strip her. I'll touch her membrane, the
membrane which protects her inwardness and our liberty.
Then, and only then, I'll stroke her for the first time
where she has admitted that she strokes herself. And I
will pursue her response to those strokes until I'm
quite satisfied that I have caught something which is as
quicksilver and precious as the herself. I will
hold her and stroke her, and I won't let her go until
I'm convinced that I have found her deepest secret and
evoked her most fierce response.
He pulled her hood back to kiss the side of her neck, not
hard enough to leave evidence. Licking, however, was safe.
Teased by his tongue, she writhed in his embrace. He abruptly
let her go when he saw a car he didn't recognize pull into the
drive a quarter mile away. "Go to the barn," he said.
Officially, she was visiting the horses, not visiting him.
Before she got there, the car had backed out and gone off the
other way.
He could run her down when he needed to, but age often walks when
youth runs. By the time he reached the barn, she was currying
Daphne. The mare didn't need it, but she always seemed to enjoy
it. "Look how large she's grown," he said. Leslie, though
nearly 16 hands tall herself, had to to reach the back of
the Morgan who was two hands shorter. Of course, Lelie's height
wasn't measured at her shoulder.
"But she's still so young."
"Yep. But enough by any horse-breeder's standards. She came
into heat last year, as you well know. Do you think the age
rules are too lenient?"
Leslie might enjoy being trapped in his arms. She clearly wasn't
about to walk into *that* trap, though. She wouldn't have been
the quicksilver mind he loved if she had.
"On my seventeenth birthday, though, you'll give me the gift that
I want?"
"Not quite *on* your birthday, dearest," he said, "but for your
birthday. There are a few preparations you will have done before
our celebration. But, as you are in charge of those
preparations, you will control the timeline after your birthday.
Before you come to visit me on that special day, you will have
done a lot by yourself."
In the month before your birthday, you will have
practiced teasing yourself every night, playing with
your lovely nipples and your magic button. You will
have learned to hold yourself at the edge until the
anticipation has grown to pain. You will have selected
a fine-looking brassiere and pair of panties, both
white, and put them in the bottom of your underwear
drawer wrapped around a floral sachet. You will have
made an appointment with a gynecologist, preferably Dr.
Jameson.
You will have seen her as soon after your birthday as
possible. You will have asked to have a quite thorough
examination, including the state of your hymen. You
will have learned from her what methods she would
recommend to that precious membrane so that your
first intercourse would not hurt. And you will have
followed that advice, especially if she will have
offered to cut it for you.
Whether it is cut or stretched, you will have allowed
days for the soreness to dissipate. You will have
warned me on Friday, and prepared yourself that night.
In that preparation, you will have teased yourself
unmercifully in bed that evening, playing with your
nipples pretending that it is my hands on you. You will
have continued that play with both hands above your
waist until your are too sensitive for even your
touch. Then you will have stroked and tickled your
thighs until your newly-opened tunnel is running. You
will have put a finger within that tunnel, pretending
that it is my finger. (Which requires a good
imagination, considering the difference in size, oh
well.)
You will have stretched yourself until a second, and
then a third finger fits. You will have pretended that
the three fingers are my organ invading you. You will
have moved them in and out of your tunnel in imitation
and anticipation of my strokes within you. When you
have played these games for no less than ninety minutes,
you will have taken yourself to the only peak of the
evening. You will have tried to make that climax as
intense and long-lasting as you are able to produce for
yourself. Then you will have gone to sleep.
The next morning, you will have taken a tub bath, not a
shower. It will have been as hot as you could stand it
in that weather and flavored with bath salts. In the
bath, you will have stretched yourself again, and
brought yourself to the edge of ecstasy. But you'll
have risen from the bath still excited, not sated. You
will have pampered yourself with warm towels and dressed
in the scented underwear. You will have put a good
dress over the underwear. You'll have dressed for the
weather and walked out to the road a little after
eleven.
Once on the road, however, you'll have run to my house,
fleeing your home and your girlhood as rapidly as you
fled me in the field just now. And much more
decisively. And you'll have arrived at my doorstep
panting and breathless and overheated.
And the warmth and the exertion will have surrounded you
with the aroma clinging to you from the bath salts, and
clinging to your underwear from the sachet. Most of the
aroma surrounding you, however, will have been generated
by your exertion and your excitement. The aroma of an
aroused Leslie.
Dafney whickered and nudged Leslie with her nose. Leslie was
standing there with the currycomb in her hand, but she was
watching Rick and totally ignoring the Morgan. When Leslie
didn't respond, Dafney let a couple of horseturds drop and drank
from the bucket in front of her stall.
Leslie let herself out of the stall and latched the gate. "You
didn't get to the good part," she said. She opened her jacket to
hug him, and she gave him a wet kiss. When he straightened, he
could feel her hard nipples press into his belly through her bra
and shirt; his erection strained upwards towards the valley
between her breasts. She pressed her soft belly against it.
"I thought the parts so far were good."
"Then the best part," she said. "The part where you get to use
this." She rolled against him from side to side, rubbing across
his arousal.
"Because," she continued, all this preparation has a purpose...."
When I get there, you'll open the door, and invite me
in. You'll take my raincoat and smell all that floral
stuff as I loosen it. Maybe you will be able to smell
my excitement. And it will excite you, imperturbable
Rick will finally want something, too.
But, wanting it and getting it is not the same thing, as
you have taught me so well. While you hang her coat up,
your little Leslie will catch her breath. And brute
speed isn't enough inside a house; agility counts, too.
So, you will want little Leslie in her Sunday dress,
little Leslie looking so innocent. But you'll have to
catch her to have her. Leslie will slip away from you
in her slip while you hang that dress up. And, if you
think that I look desirable in that dress, wait until
you see the slip that comes with it.
Looking chaste while I'm chased... (It's your own
fault.) Looking chaste while she's chased, your Leslie
will slip away in her white slip. It is white and
innocent and girlish, but being girlish it wasn't
designed to hide the hips and that Leslie has
developed since that slip was purchased. So, if you try
hard enough, you will catch me in that slip and buy it
for a kiss. But you will need to provide a kiss that is
worth that garment.
And you will hang up the slip, over a chair if nowhere
else. And your Leslie, not being quite yours yet, will
flee again, and hide again. And, not knowing where, you
will have to search all the rooms upstairs. Will you
find her in a closet? Will you find her hiding behind a
door? Will you find her hiding under a bed?
You won't know until you search. And when you find her,
if you find her, you will get to remove more garments;
not her bra, not her panties, but her shoes and
stockings. For you won't find your little Leslie
wearing socks like the little you will still think
she is. And you won't see her playing tag in her
pantyhose, for that is asking for a run. You'll have to
take the pantyhose off.
And, when you do that, you'll see those you want
your little Leslie to wear. Not slinky black for a sexy
woman, but virginal white for a little girl. And you
can't really expect a little to take them off for
you, can you? So, while you will see them, while you
will be able to smell the sweet flower odor from the
sachet -- maybe. And maybe it will be overpowered by
another odor by that time, an odor that will spoil your
illusion that Leslie is a little girl.
While you will see them, you won't remove them then.
After you straighten out the pantyhose, it will be time
to search for a who has fled again. You'll
remember how nice it is that you live in an
farmhouse with so many bedrooms on the second floor.
And you'll search in the closets, and you'll search
behind the doors, and you'll search under the beds, and
-- remembering that she is now barefoot and might get
chilled by the floors -- you'll search within the beds.
And when you have found your Leslie, you'll see that she
is dressed all in white like an innocent little girl,
or, at least, how you think an innocent little
should dress. And you will realize, a little late, that
having your wicked ways with an innocent little
would be even more wicked. So you will remove that bra,
and will see that your Leslie isn't so little anymore,
especially in the parts that the bra was hiding. And
you will kiss your grown-up love, kiss her until she is
satisfied with the kiss. Then you will kiss the parts
that you have revealed, the that show her
maturity.
And when you have kissed everywhere that you have kissed
up until then, your Leslie will flee one last time. You
will find her easily though. Because, dressed as she
will be, undressed as she will be, the only place to
hide will be in a bed; and the only bed for her to hide
will be your great big one. There, in the bed, you will
kiss her mouth and kiss her breasts. While you are
doing that, you'll remove your own clothes. When you
are more naked than she, you will let her see you as you
have seen her.
You will let her kiss you as you have kissed her. You
will feel her kisses on every part of your body. Then
you will return those kisses until Leslie is gasping in
anticipation. You will remove the white which
are the next-to-last protection of her virginity, and
the last symbol of your weird illusion that she -- who
is really enough to bear a child -- is a child
herself.
Then you will kiss the last unkissed place on her body.
You will use the skill you claim until Leslie is truly
yours, out of her mind with lust.
Then, then finally, you will do your duty. You will
drive that precious organ of yours, which Leslie may not
even see up until that day, into her. You will open the
way in a manner which neither the doctor nor Leslie
herself can open it. And you will fill her until she
holds all of you in herself.
Then you will drive into her and out of her until she
screams from the pleasure. And you will feel a greater
pleasure yourself and fill her with your seed. And you
will rest in her arms and holding a woman in your arms.
The pleasure will make you cry.
When you have rested enough, you will fill her again
with your cock, until you fill her again with your seed.
The joy in your heart and loins will be tinged by only
one regret. You'll realize that you could have been
doing precisely that for the previous six months.
"Do you really think that I'm being selfish?" he asked. "Am I
planning what will be a crucial and unrepeatable event in your
life to please only myself?"
"We can't repeat it?"
"Silly! You know what I mean. It's our first time, but it's
also *your* first time and not mine. Do I really come off as
designing it to please some petty kink of mine?
"Well, you keep treating me as some baby. I keep throwing myself
at you, and you keep ducking. You can't be so worried about a
silly law; you've broken others in your life."
"And so I have," he admitted, "and so I shall. That's part of
the reason. I always tell myself that the reason that I break
laws is to show that the law is wrong. When you take that tack,
obeying the law becomes morally important. And this law is
right."
"It isn't right for me!"
"No. It isn't. But you've seen the sign on the road past the
grade school? It tries to slow traffic to 30 miles per hour."
"Yeah." She sounded wary.
"Well, is that the proper speed to guarantee safety when your
father is driving? He isn't as good as he was when he raced, but
he still has lightning reactions. And is it the proper speed for
his Uncle Shelton? I get scared walking beside the road when
he's driving past."
"Uncle Shelton doesn't speed."
"No. But he's still an accident waiting to happen. But the
speed limit is for both of them. The same thing is true of us.
You're for your age, and not only the bulges which make
you so proud...."
"My age!" she said. "Most my age have been sexually
for years."
"And half of them don't have the intellectual or emotional
maturity to handle it. You do, but the law isn't made for
Leslie; it's made for girls. And the law in New York State says
that a girl's consent isn't valid until she's passed her
seventeenth birthday. I don't think that this law is wrong; I'm
not about to challenge it publicly. So I don't want to sneak
around it. And, quite honestly, I don't want to be caught
sneaking around it.
"Anyway, it's not as if our feelings are going to go away. We
*are* mature, and that means that we can control ourselves for
four months. And that means that we can reconsider our plans
until they satisfy both of us.
"So," he continued, "what is wrong with wearing virginal gear for
the last day of your virginity? What is wrong with my thinking
that the woman I love is a maiden intended for me, rather than a
whore looking for a customer? What is wrong with dressing the
part that, in actual fact, comports with your reality?"
"I just want to feel sexy, so I want to look sexy."
"You do look sexy. Even dressed like this, you look sexy. I'm
not really under any illusions about the size of your breasts,
you know." He turned her in his arms so he could confirm the
size with his hands. She pressed back against his hardness while
his fingers teased her nipples.
"You know," he continued, "when women past a certain age spend an
hour every morning over their makeup, they have a goal in mind.
They want to look like they aren't wearing any cosmetics. But
they want to look like *you* do without any makeup, not like they
do. Seems to me that your age are screaming, 'Look-at-me;
I'm wearing makeup.' Not that I would question your decisions
about cosmetics for yourself when you go to school events."
"Yeah. Right."
"But the very desire to look grown-up displays an immaturity.
Although, as I said, it's a good idea to follow the styles of
your peers. This underwear thing, though, is just for the two of
us. And I am *not* obsessing over your youth. I'm not chasing
young girls, I'm chasing Leslie. The last time I felt this
lustful over a sixteen-year-old was when I was fourteen. And, my
dear, evoking lust from a of twenty-eight is a much greater
accomplishment than evoking it from a of fourteen."
"Yeah," she said in her most teasing tone. "I should remember
that you're over the hill. Maybe I shouldn't plan on repeating
sex on our first day. Maybe I should allow you a week to
recover."
"Now, sweetheart, I'm old, but I'm not that yet. Leslie has
a lot of time before her lover can only get it up weakly weekly.
And before that she'll be experienced enough to know that and
women can satisfy each other even when their needs are on
different schedules. Long before that time..."
Instead of standing around a frightened of every
car that drives past, Leslie will have become accustomed
to lying beside Rick in the same bed all night. Her
only fears will have been of odd sounds in the night.
These frame farmhouses groan and squeak in ways that
the new tract houses don't. She will have found that
she could wake Rick to look for intruders, and she will
have finally learned to ignore those noises.
She will have learned that lying beside Rick has other
comforts as well, while it won't have been half so
*active* a pleasure as lying on top of Rick or even
lying under him.
She'll have been held in his arms while they both go to
sleep. She'll have lain there while they talk quietly,
and while they trade kisses and hugs and gentle petting.
Sometimes they will have gone to sleep after that, and
sometimes his kisses and caresses will have excited her
until she can't stand the tension, and then the tension
will have doubled. He'll have led her over the edge
again and again.
Sometimes, after that, he will have entered her, and
possessed her, and taken her up the mountain again, and
followed her explosion with his own. Sometimes, though,
a restful cuddle and a quiet sleep will have followed
her culmination. So, long before Leslie will have any
reason to worry about Rick's lust fading to a once-a-
week affair, she'll have learned that Rick desires her
pleasure as much as he desires his own. She'll have
understood that Rick's desire can incite hers, but
needn't circumscribe it.
And she'll have had the opportunity, but never the
requirement, to find whether she enjoys Rick's desire
when it exceeds her own. Sometimes, at least, she'll
have been tempted to play with Rick's erection, taking
it into her hand when she didn't want it in her vagina.
Curiosity, if nothing else, will have led her to watch
while she brings him to tension, and culmination. And
then she'll have learned how messy Rick can be when she
takes him in hand.
"And what if I want it in my mouth, instead?" she asked. He felt
his loins lurch at that question. He suspected that she had
intended that reaction.
"That can also be arranged. What you want in the way of
eroticism for the two of us will always be able to be arranged.
Because we'll be free, and the law won't be able to intrude."
"The law won't, but my will."
"All too true," he admitted. "Which is why we'll have to keep a
low profile for a while longer. But what threatens us after you
turn seventeen is a scandal. I *don't* want your senior year
marred by that; I *do* want your parents' presence, if not their
full enthusiasm, at our wedding."
"And who said that I would marry you?"
"You did, actually. But go ahead and play hard-to-get. I
pursued you in the field this noon, and I'll pursue you again and
again...."
For Rick will continue to pursue his love and chase his
love and court his love, however often she flees. And
he'll find that time is on his side.
First, she'll blow out seventeen candles; and his
pursuit will become legal. Then he'll be able to entice
her as well as simply chasing her. He'll find ways to
make Leslie enjoy being caught, ways that are even more
fun than being petted or kissed.
Then she'll graduate a year later, and his pursuit will
become overt. He'll still entice her with pleasures
that nobody else should know that they share, but he'll
also be able to attract her with lures which the
community can see. Baubles like an engagement ring,
posies not from his field but from a flower shop, many
are the apples that Rick will drop before his Atalanta.
But, then, it won't be a single race.
He'll expect his ring on her finger to slow Leslie's
flights, weighing her down with the burden of her
acceptance. And he'll scheme to add a second ring to
that. Then we'll see where Leslie can flee to, once she
is wed. In the depth of winter, he'll be able to catch
her by merely rolling over in bed.
Then, their bodies almost the only sources of heat in
the bedroom two flights above the laboring furnace,
he'll search for her under the down comforter. Blind in
the night, he'll grope until his hands find a warmth.
Then he'll breathe on that warmth as one does a spark.
When it catches fire, he'll delve within the center of
the warmth until he finds the heat which is its source.
He'll add his friction until that heat strikes fire, and
until that fire is matched by his own. Then, as the
fires fade to embers, he'll hold his love tight to keep
them warm.
But, even then, he'll understand that possession is
transient. Even then, he'll know that the thaw is
coming.
First when the weather begins to warm, when the mares
are mated again, Rick and Leslie will go together like
responsible stock owners, and watch their mares being
bred. And from the hayloft, those responsible owners
will watch the stallion drive into the mare. No one in
the whole world will guess that those watchers are
imitating the horses. No one will have the slightest
suspicion that when Leslie leans out the window of the
hayloft dressed in a decent shirt, Rick will be behind
her. He will nuzzle her and stroke her when the
stallion pursues the mare; when the stallion nips the
mare, Rick will nip Leslie. But, perhaps, he will only
use his lips since he'll be in a much more delicate
place. He will press against her when the stallion
rises above the mare, and he will thrust into Leslie at
the very moment that the stallion drives into the mare.
Unlike the stallion, however, Rick will have the use of
hands. He will clasp every bit of his love, under the
and along her neck, on her hips and between her
legs. Unlike the stallion, Rick will not be content
with his Leslie's acquiescence. With both hands, he
will seek her excitement, and then her passion. He will
drive into her while she is warm and open to him, but he
won't stroke within her until she is quivering in
anticipation and matching his strokes. He will stroke
her inside and out until he has caught her passion and
then her culmination.
Only then, while she is clutching him within herself,
will he drive mindlessly in and out of her clasping
tunnel until his passion captures him, and then pours
out into her.
When spring turns so hot that even the mornings are
warm, in those warm mornings, before he needs to be at
work or she needs to be at her classes, she'll
be free to flee him again. If she runs across their
fields, he'll have no choice but pursuit. Then he'll
have to catch her and tickle her until she falls down.
Holding her on the ground, he'll need to stop her mouth
with his until she hasn't the breath to escape. He'll
have to capture every bit of her, holding every inch of
her surface with his hands -- and then with his mouth.
He'll need to spread her legs so wide she couldn't run,
and interpose his own to keep them apart. He'll find a
rivet to bind her to the ground, and then he'll just
drive that rivet into her and drive it into her while
she writhes there on the ground. Then he'll fill her
with another weight beyond the rings, emptying the fluid
which will weigh him down more and more fully as he
glimpses her bewitching butt flick before him in her run
across the dark fields. Finally, pinned in her center,
filled with his ballast, and held by his weight, she'll
lie quiet while he rests on top of her until the rising
sun threatens to reveal them to their neighbors.
And when the summer really arrives, when the sun owns
the sky and the nights are the shortest, he will entice
her out to the fields at the time of the late sunset.
There, they will watch while the sun sinks slowly. And,
Rick will try to kiss Leslie to a glow matching the glow
of the sky. Then his desire will rise as the sunset
glow sinks, and he will catch her up, and strive with
her, and lay her down, and dig within her, until he has
captured her spirit and filled her with his own.
And then winter will come back around, and Rick will
trap Leslie once again between her hot spouse and their
cold room.
"So, you see, dearest," Rick continued in a calmer voice, "I
don't fear having to pursue you and woo you. I look forward to
it."
"A very riveting description," she said. He groaned. "It's
really your fault, you know. I thought that they were called
screws."
"The difference between a lit'ry metaphor and a trite vulgarity,"
he said. "Besides, the motion is more in-and-out than around in
circles."
"I'm not sure that I understand. Perhaps you could demonstrate."
"All in good time, dearest. All in good time."
"You keep saying that." She was pouting, but the grin came
through. They had a kiss before he turned her so that her hips
were pressed against his thigh, her head rested under his chin,
and her was in his hand.
"But time is what we have, dearest. Time is what you bring to
this partnership. Time and freshness and beauty. But the
freshness and beauty are mostly for my enjoyment; time is your
dowry for *us*. Your youth limits us, and threatens us if we
reveal our love. But your youth allows us such a long future."
"For children, you mean?"
"For children... for everything."
"I'm not sure that I want to wait for everything," she said, "or
even for children. Babies are so cuddly. But, I'll admit, I'm
not ready to be at the beck and call of anyone right now --
however cuddly."
"That's the gift that your youth brings," he said. "We want so
much, lots of it incompatible. We can have so much of it, just
not at the same time. We'll have cuddly babies, and squalling
brats, and teenagers for us to worry about, just as your
worry about you. For that matter, we'll worry about a as my
parents worried about me. But we won't have them all at the same
time. And, with the time that your youth gives us, we'll have
other things first."
"And, that way, I get to hold these lovely, firm, breasts; and
you get the larger you keep wishing you had. For that
will come with children. But, first, we'll have a time for
ourselves. After the world lets us be two together, we'll have
some time to enjoy our twoness before we add a third. By
then...."
Rick and Leslie will have learned to be a family. You
can learn from others how to build a house out of
bricks, because those others are using bricks identical
to yours. You can't learn from them how to build a home
out of two people, because the people who have done that
have used materials different from yours.
And that applies, to a lesser extent, to the making of a
sexual couple. Oh, Rick has some experience with women,
and he has some books that tell him the general rules.
But he will have spent a lot of time and attention
learning just what makes *Leslie* tick. And, more to
the point, what makes Leslie gasp, or moan, or scream.
He'll have explored her body very carefully, seeing
which parts react to his fingers, which to his lips, and
which to his tongue. And he'll have tried a few other
caresses as well, and combinations of caresses. He'll
have enjoyed himself physically, never doubt that; but
he'll have enjoyed the finer, longer-lasting pleasure
which comes from experiencing the passion of one's
beloved.
And Leslie will have experienced the intensity of
physical joy that can only come when one's attention
to the sensations is not distracted by having to provide
the frictions oneself. And she'll have experienced the
subtler pleasures of knowing that one's pleasure is also
pleasure for one's lover, the doubling of joy that comes
from knowing that this joy, in and of itself, causes joy
in another.
Orgasm is a wonderful country to visit, but she will
have found that returning from there is far better when
it is truly coming home. She will have come home into
the arms of one who loves her, and will have enjoyed
that far more than she enjoyed coming back to a lonely
bed.
Leslie will have done some exploring of her own. She'll
find out what Rick especially likes to have her touch,
she'll have found that Rick's cock can stand quite a bit
more pressure than one would think at first, and his
balls quite a bit less. She'll have found which hugs
Rick finds comforting after a long day designing parts
by CAD, and which hugs arouse him to immediate desire
for intercourse.
But that exploration will have been only the beginning.
They will have sought the times and moods that each of
them bring to love play. They will have each learned
the effect of the clock and the calendar on the other
and on them both.
Rick will have learned to use hands and tongue and
phallus to bring Leslie to an immediate explosion.
Leslie will have learned that bringing Rick to an
explosion is no terribly great accomplishment.
They will have experimented with long sessions, teasing,
tasting. Rick will have held Leslie in his arms while
kissing her face, neck, shoulders, back. He will have
spent an hour bringing her to warmth and desire before
his kisses will have strayed to her mouth, let alone to
her breasts. He will have feasted on those
until his Leslie tells him that the stimulation has
passed from pleasure into pain. He will have played
with her inner folds until she tenses with her desire,
and will have petted her down to a warm glow again. He
will have repeated that until she burns from the fire of
her lust.
Then, only then, will he have brought her over. And his
tongue will have continued the stimulation until she
lies quite replete.
They will have tested Leslie that way time and again,
until Leslie will have decided, and told Rick, whether
she prefers such love to be followed by sleep in his
arms or quiet, slow, sweet intercourse. For, by that
time, she will have experienced many examples of each.
Or, just perhaps, she will have decided that she prefers
Rick to follow such a slow seduction with an instant
virtual rape. More than once, Rick will have spread her
legs as soon as she falls back in her repletion and
pressed her into the mattress with his weight. Having
thrust his cock deep within her, he'll have grasped her
hips and pulled her against him as he drives in and out
until he, too will have exploded. He'll have poured his
lust and his love and his seed into her and rested on
her until they both will have had time to recover.
Perhaps Leslie will have chosen one of those as her
preferred ending; perhaps she will have decided that
each option fits a particular mood.
Leslie will have held Rick in her arms. She'll have
held him more intimately, as well. She'll have lain
down, and stood up too, while he thrusts into her.
She'll have fitted herself around him as she squatted
above his supine form, impaling herself on the one
verticality standing out from all that horizontality.
There, she will have controlled the action. It won't
have been merely that Rick will have wanted to please
her and will have conformed his actions to her
responses. In these times, Leslie will have been in
direct control. She will have rubbed her soft mortar
around Rick's stiff pestle until he, she, or both are
ground to a powder of passion.
She'll have experienced their love as a partnership in
the long run. But each of them will have reigned at one
time or another.
She will have searched for an intimacy much gentler, but
even more erotic. Rick will have held her in his arms,
much like this but without the clothes. But she will
have held him much more intimately yet. And he will
have moved his hardness through her softness only enough
to keep that hardness. And they will have talked and
petted that way for hours. From that Leslie will have
learned, learned in a way that words cannot teach, that
she is Rick's and that Rick is hers.
And the same faint motions, the same long hugs, while
she lies on Rick and holds him inside her, will have
taught her that the union of their organs is the center
and symbol of the union of their lives. They won't have
merely come together to ease their desires, although
they'll have done that many times. They will have come
together to express that they are indeed one,
permanently.
And Leslie will have sat on his lap and taken him inside
her. She will have held him in her arms and been held
in his both at the same time. There, neither will have
controlled their motions. Joined and jointly, they will
have mutually sought their mutual pleasure.
Nor is Leslie the only one who will have learned from
that. Rick's mind and body will finally have learned
what his heart told him soon after they met. He'll
finally accept that Leslie is the other part of him,
that part that can't be severed from him by anything but
death.
"Which," she said, "will probably come from starvation before any
of this takes place." He looked at his watch; it was nearly two.
Leslie might eat like a bird, but she preferred to do so
regularly.
"I had spaghetti last night," he said. "Want me to heat it up
for us?"
"How you can eat the same stuff for dinner and the next day's
lunch...."
He decided not to mention his breakfast. She also had a
prejudice against cold spaghetti. He went to start the warming
while she said goodbye to the mares. All his stock were female
except for Daphne's colt and Delilah's yearling.
"Well, dearest," he said when she came in, "you can cook for the
family when we are a family. You can choose the menus and see
that we never eat the same meal twice in a month. Though how you
will deal with vegetables, let alone leftovers, I can't imagine."
He sliced some lettuce from the head for each of them. "There
are left-over limas as well." Damn! He should have warmed them,
too.
"I should have paid more attention in Home Ec. I can tell you're
not a strong believer in balanced meals. Anyway, I'll pass on
the lima beans."
They had a nice kiss before sitting down to the meal. Not that
he hadn't enjoyed kissing her in her coat, but she was definitely
sexier when he could feel her shape.
While they ate, she told about the homework that she had done the
previous night and that morning. This had become something of a
ritual for them. In the three years between the death of his
parents and the beginning of her sharing his Saturday lunches, he
had grown unused to talking during meals, and it gave her one
more motivation for doing a big chunk of her homework before
coming over to visit. He didn't want these Saturdays to drag her
grades down, partly because her learning was important to him,
mostly because her were quite likely to tell her that she
couldn't go see Rick's horses until her grades improved.
Besides that, the schoolwork which she found "boooooring" was the
only part of her non-erotic life which he found of any interest
at all. The spats and reconciliations that decorated her
friendships were too petty to interest even so dedicated a
partisan as himself. He tried to pay attention to the
distinctions she made in styles, but it was an area in which he
was too ignorant to learn. He divided the clothes worn by
into concealing and revealing, a classification he wasn't stupid
enough to share with her, especially since he preferred her in
the concealing and her classmates in the revealing mode.
The spaghetti was much depleted when he put it away. After
dessert, they settled down in the back parlor for a nice snuggle.
Half an hour into kissing her, he broke to lick her ear. She
wiggled away.
She went off for a pit stop. "Now, be nice," she said. "No
tickling or I won't sit on your lap."
He shifted chairs and crossed his heart. When he did cuddle her,
he found that she wasn't wearing a bra. Holding a sweet, firm
breast in his hand, he felt himself hardening against her. The
nipple was poking out, too. This was fun, but he didn't want to
go much further today. They had four months to go.
As they kissed, he felt his resolve weaken. Time for a
distraction. "You know, I can't handle many more mares than the
ones I have now if I'm going to keep putting in forty-nine hours
a week doing CAD."
"I'll help."
"Well, you help already. Any more time with Daffodil before you
live here is going to cut into your time with Rick. You might
not mind...."
"Oh yes I would."
"But I certainly would. On the other hand the future is open, so
long as we don't cut it off ourselves."
"Somehow," she said, "when *I* think of our future together, the
first thing that *I* think about isn't how we can increase your
remuda."
"Well, that isn't the first thing which pops into my mind,
either. Except for acquiring a particular filly."
"Can't see why," she said. "You don't want to ride her."
"Leg gone to sleep?"
"No. Why?"
"Because if your thigh weren't asleep, you'd know that I *want*
to ride that filly. It's just that riding her too soon causes
problems which might prevent my riding her for a long time. You
know enough about the ways of horses to see that. Look at what
they do to thoroughbreds."
"I wouldn't have that problem," she said.
"You'd have others. We'd have others. You don't risk the long
term for the short term -- not when you can see the long term
clearly. Leslie and Rick have such a marvelous future, if they
can reach it...."
From the beginning, Leslie will run the household,
except for repairs. She'll learn on the job, but she'll
already know more than Rick, to damn with faint praise.
In the beginning, Rick'll run everything else. He's
done all of that already, the finances, the horses, the
time schedule. They'll care for the horses in the
morning. He'll go off to sit at a computer all day;
she'll go off to classes. When they get home,
though, it will be time to take care of themselves.
As Leslie learns more at SUNY, as running the household
changes from an adventure to a rut, she'll take over
more control of other areas. Maybe the business side of
the horses second, maybe the finances.
The first area in which she'll exercise more power,
however, will be the bedroom. Because they will start
off with Rick knowing a hell of a lot more about sex
than Leslie will, but they will work hard to increase
her experience.
When day is done, with their chores finished, they will
lie in bed together, and Rick will pet his love until
her desire warms her completely. Then he will move
above her and inside her and she will welcome him with
hugging arms and open legs. He will stroke within her
until they both catch fire; and then he will pour out
enough liquid to put that fire out. Afterwards they
will cuddle together in their joint warmth, going to
sleep in the glow of their love.
When evening mucking-out is done, they will feel the
need for a shower before bed. And when, in the
interests of efficiency, they take that shower together,
they will find all sorts of ways to help each other.
Leslie will scrub Rick's back, and he will scrub hers
but will be more interested in scrubbing her front. And
when both of them are clean all over, when each has
dried the other, they will tumble into bed without
patience for the long preparation. Their hands will be
everywhere on the other until Leslie spreads her legs
wide to accommodate Rick and he pounds her into the
mattress until they both explode.
Not that they need get the bedclothes wet. When they
are playing together in the shower, Leslie will
sometimes want Rick then and there. She will merely
turn her back and pull his cock into her cunt. Then
Rick will bend his knees to enter her, and drive in her
until he erupts. The water, if it isn't freezing by
then, will make cleaning up much easier.
But nobody but the horses will be holding them to a
schedule. When they both get home after their hectic
days, they won't need to wait for bedtime. Besides, the
house won't really be their home as a couple until they
have initiated each room.
The kitchen counter is a nice height; Leslie will be
able to sit on it and lean back while Rick drives into
her again and again, tells her of his love, and
ejaculates proof of that love. That, too, will be
easier to clean up than the sheets. And whenever Leslie
cooks there afterwards, she will remember how she felt
with Rick inside her. She will remember, too, what Rick
said and did, if not quite how he felt. His groans as
he comes into her will be enough to hint how desirable
and sexy he finds her.
Of course, there is no law restricting them to one time
or one way in a single room. The sofa will suggest a
bed so strongly that they will be tempted to use it as
such, but this chair will suggest another posture. The
front parlor will be a challenge. They will strive for
the first pleasure that has been enjoyed in that room
since Great Grandfather Wilcox was laid out there and
his enemies came to the wake.
Rick will, however, rise to that challenge. Leslie will
engulf his erection while he sits in this very chair.
That done, Rick will be able to stand and carry her
impaled into the stuffiness next door. Leaning back
from him against the wall, she can thrust herself
forward to meet his thrusts until they spend and
collapse.
And there will be all those rooms upstairs with beds.
They will find some of those beds high enough that
Leslie will kneel on them while Rick will stand on the
floor and pierce her from behind.
You don't roll around on a feather bed, so Leslie will
sink into one while Rick will sink into her. Slowly,
lingeringly, he will move in her while petting her
everywhere. They will have time to climb that mountain
together. When they fall off, they will land on
feathers and rest there for a night.
All of this, all the sneaking into fields in the dark
and, will be fun in and of itself. The *purpose*,
however, is informative. At first, Rick will say,
"let's try this."
Soon, Leslie will say, "I really feel like doing that."
When they know each other better, she often won't say
one word. Instead she will think of some posture, some
place, some tempo, that they have done before. She will
think to herself that this is what she wants on that
particular day. And she will entice Rick into that
place or that pace. Rick will be very easy to entice.
Perhaps Leslie will even think up positions before Rick
does.
And so, when Leslie has her degree and they can see
their way free to support a child, when they know each
other and their patterns, they will choose a solemn time
to discard their precautions. They will kiss longer and
play less than they did in the past. Leslie will lie on
her back, whatever their preferences on other days.
Rick will ensure that Leslie is at the height of her
desire before he enters her, and she will stimulate him
as well. Then, stroking boldly in his love until he
explodes, Rick will plant a seed that will bloom in
Leslie. And they will lie quietly after the planting is
done to allow the seed all the time it needs to take
root. And they will repeat that until Leslie conceives.
When she is well and truly with child, Leslie will have
different hormones raging inside her than the ones which
do now. But she will know a hundred shades of intimacy
with Rick already. She will have discussed them and
chosen among them. So, as her desires change, she will
have a palette from which she can select what she wants
most on any particular day.
And, as their children grow, and their marriage grows,
they will always have the palette. What they want, not
only what Leslie wants but what Rick wants, will change
over time. They will, however, have a variety from
which to select.
And select they will, so long as they both shall live.
"You make it sound nice," Leslie said. "I'll consider marrying
you after all."
"That's good news, dearest." He fondled her with his
right hand and hugged her more tightly with his left. She
cuddled under his chin. He lowered his voice to accommodate that
closeness. "Do you want to help a little more with the horses?
You'll have to leave in an hour."
"Hold me for a few minutes more. I don't think that I can wait
four months."
"We'll make it," he assured her. "We'll help each other."
THE END
Flights of Fancy
Uther Pendragon
2000/02/03
2001/06/08
2002/03/04
For another involving a woman's first time, this one really
happening, see:
"Forever."t
This is indexed in the subdirectory:
Mf.Older Men, Younger Women
The directory to all my can be found at:
index.txt