A Country Girl

‘Undoing your buttons.’

‘What for?’

‘’Cause I want to feel your titties.’

‘Well, you won’t feel them proper through my chemise … Let me loosen it first.’ She undid the buttons at the side of her skirt, slackening it, then pulled her chemise up above her waist. ‘There …’

His breathing came heavier. He placed his hand on her bare stomach and the smoothness and tautness of her skin astonished him. Gently, he explored higher and reached one cool, silky breast. It was the first time he had ever felt a girl’s breast like this, and he gave it an experimental squeeze. To his amazement it returned immediately to its original delightful contours as soon as he relaxed his gentle grip. To make sure it was not a unique phenomenon, he repeated the experiment with the other.

‘They’re so smooth,’ he whispered, his voice a tight thread of emotion. ‘They’re ever so nice to feel, even though they ain’t that big.’

‘I think they’re plenty big enough, Algie,’ she replied, smiling to herself at his candidness. Then, feeling the need to be rewarded with a show of affection for allowing him unfettered access to her breasts, said, ‘Kiss me, Algie. Another butterfly kiss.’

He was entirely content to kiss her again, and did so more passionately. While he was working her lips he wondered what it might be like kissing these delightful breasts, and pulled up her chemise a little further before nuzzling each in turn. To his astonishment, her small pink nipples hardened in response to his moist caresses.

‘Oh, that’s ever so nice, Algie,’ Marigold sighed.

He was encouraged and, deeming it his bounden duty to venture south in the interests of seeking even greater mutual pleasure, took a handful of skirt and pulled the hem up above her knees. When his fingers ventured through the elasticated leg hole of her long drawers and found the soft, warm flesh of her thighs there, he thought his chest would burst with the intensifying pounding of his heart.

He returned to her mouth, plying her lips with gentle little bites and kisses, while he located the slit in her drawers and thereby gained access to the warm mound of hair secreted within.

‘Oh, Algie …’ Her whimper was a mix of anxious resignation and pleasant expectation, but not discouragement. Certainly not discouragement.

He caressed the soft, moist place between her legs with the greatest care and devotion. This was a moment he had only ever tried to imagine before; to be allowed such extreme liberties by a girl he really loved and admired. But the reality far exceeded the capability of his imagination. He was actually touching, feeling a girl … there … in this, the most mystical, the most privileged, the most private of places. It was a landmark in his life. It would be a landmark in the life of any young man – the first such extraordinary intimacy … Surely, it could only lead to that ultimate familiarity which he had always feared was going to elude him. Without doubt, this was a red letter day. He found it difficult to control his trembling at the electrifying prospect.

To add to his private elation, he encountered no resistance from Marigold, only complicity. After all her teasing last time they met, she seemed as anxious as him after all to fulfil what must have since become a mutual wish.

She in turn, was convinced of Algie’s love. With this wondrous shared experience of total commitment to draw on, further doubts would not plague her next time they were apart.

Algie reluctantly removed his hand from the split in her drawers. But it was necessary in order to progress to the next stage and unfasten his fly. His trapped and aching manhood sprung free, like a jack-in-the-box released, while she virtuously avoided sight of it. Breathing heavily again, and feeling as nervous as he’d ever felt in his life, he rolled on top of her and guided himself back to the place he had just vacated. She parted her legs a little wider in anticipation, closing her eyes as she felt him press against her for entry.

‘Oh, Algie …’ The girlish tremor in her voice betrayed her nervousness, but she resigned herself to the inevitable outcome, welcoming it.

After an abortive series of gentle pushes, he confessed with frustrated inadequacy, ‘I can’t get him in, Marigold.’

‘You ain’t lined up right, I s’pose,’ she whispered tenderly.

‘Help me then. Guide him in.’

‘It’s like steering a narrowboat into a lock, ain’t it?’ She gave a little giggle to hide her embarrassment. ‘It only just fits and you’ve only got a little opening to aim at.’ She held him, and he felt her cool fingers gently embrace him as she carefully guided him into her, raising her knees and her backside to make his entry easier. ‘There,’ she breathed, suppressing a little cry of pain; pain she had expected, pain which she was prepared to endure in her willing submission to this man she loved with all her heart.