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persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public figures in
the background, are figments of my imagination.  Any resemblance to persons
living or dead is strictly coincidental.



   Quilt

   Uther Pendragon

   nogardneprethu@gmail.com

   Mf hist 1st

   Sarah couldn't see any activity around Jonathan's cabin.  Was he off
hunting or tending his trap lines?  He certainly wasn't in his small
cornfield as any farmer would be in the afternoon.  She had taken so much
care to make this trip in secrecy, so much effort in getting up her
courage, she didn't know whether she could do it again and again.  But then
she saw a doe hanging by its hind legs from a tree limb.  It was only
partially butchered, so Jonathan hadn't wandered off.  And, when she came
to the door of the cabin, she saw that the latchstring wasn't hanging out.
So, Jonathan had to be inside.  She knocked softly without hearing a
response.

   She waited.  Knocking was so forward.  But Jennifer had told her in
sworn secrecy that this was an experience she would regret missing for the
rest of her life.  She knocked harder.

   Jonathan was dead asleep.  He'd been up long before dawn waiting to
ambush the deer as they went to the water hole.  The doe hadn't been shot
as cleanly as he would have liked, and he'd had to chase her for a mile by
ear.  Then, after slitting her throat, he'd had to pack her all the way to
the cabin on his back.  When she was lifted high enough to escape
four-legged hunters and her intestines were removed, emptied, and soaked,
he'd sought his bed.  Now, a knocking woke him.

   "Who is it?"

   "It's me.  Sarah.  Sarah Mitchell." Jennifer's sister.  Jennifer's
even-prettier sister, and getting better looking this past year.  "Open the
door."

   "Give me a minute." He dragged on his trousers, got his rifle, cocked
and primed it.  Were anyone to think of attacking him, they would probably
not bring Sarah Mitchell with them.  On the other hand, Jonathan had enough
declared enemies.  Who knew what Jennifer had told, for that matter.  When
he opened the door, and could see only Sarah there.  She stepped in.  With
her in the light and him in the shadow, he felt safer.  "Well, Sarah, it is
very nice to see you.  Can I do something for you?"

   "I...  I hope so." He waited.  This was an odd response.  "Jennifer told
me....  She told me that you had helped her." That last came out in a rush.

   "I am happy that whatever I did was of some use to her." He knew
damn-well what he had done for -- or to, or with -- Jennifer.  And she had
enjoyed it nearly as much as he had.  Still, what they'd done was one
thing, and what she'd told her sister was another thing.

   "And Michael sometimes hurts me when he hugs me to kiss."

   "You're engaged to Michael?" His hilltop cabin was a mile from the
settlers in the valley, but he heard the news when he traded meat for
bread. "If he does not please you, then break off the engagement."

   "I can't.  There are only a few others, and they are waiting for the
younger girls.  Besides, they are no better.  Daniel might be worse." He
knew she was right.  A town with a hundred unmarried youths would have
provided each of them a choice.  The settlement, with but four families,
provided damn few.  Of the three unmarried men older than her, one was her
brother.  It was late in the summer, too late to plant, too late to expect
another family to settle.  On top of everything else, rejecting an
engagement would mean a feud splitting the meager settlement.

   "Well, does this kiss hurt?" He took her gently in his arms, giving her
every chance to reject him.  His kiss was gentle, but he could feel her
shape against him.  His erection pressed against a firm belly; his chest
pressed against soft, young, breasts.

   Sarah thrilled when their lips met, thrilled more when she felt his
chest against her suddenly-tight nipples, thrilled most of all when their
tongues met.

   "Oh, yes!  I mean no.  It doesn't hurt at all." She turned up her face
to his again.  This time, when he kissed her, he ran his hands down her
back to hold her by the seat.  The touch added to the thrill of the kiss.
His tongue entered her mouth again.  When it retreated, hers followed his.
He sucked it gently.  Finally, when she was breathless, he held her
shoulders while he stepped back further into the shadows.  When she moved
to follow him, he turned her around.  She braced to resist his pushing her
away, but instead, he drew her back against him.  She came into his arms
with a lurch.

   "Gently, lovely Sarah.  We'll go gently." He was whispering into her
hair an inch above her ear.  He kissed the top of that ear.  As he trailed
kisses along the back of the ear, he swept his hands from her shoulders to
her wrists.  They returned up her front to her breasts.  He stroked both
nipples through her dress as he thrust his tongue into her ear.  "We'll go
slowly," he said before he began kissing the side of her neck.

   "I can't go slowly." All these kisses were thrilling.  Where Michael
grabbed, Jonathan caressed.  And Jonathan was already caressing where
Michael had never been permitted to grab.  The kisses, the caresses, the
sense that her feelings mattered to Jonathan, were arousing her; besides...
"The preacher's due on Saturday.  The wedding's scheduled for Monday."

   That was a problem, and a young pretty girl in his arms distracted him
from the problem.  If he'd been alone, he could probably have reckoned what
day of the week this was.  But Jennifer had resisted each step of the way
after the innocent conversations outside his cabin -- as if she had an
innocent reason to visit his cabin.  He was fairly sure that this would be
Sarah's only visit.  And he was already hard as iron against her back; the
breasts under his hand were even sweeter than the skin under his mouth.  If
she wouldn't go through with this, and the lass seemed skittish -- look how
she'd stumbled when he pulled her back -- he'd be frustrated as hell. 
Well, he'd see.

   "Take it off." He'd taken one hand off her right breast to pull her own
hand up to the top button on her dress.  She unbuttoned immediately,
wanting his hands where they had been.  Then, she changed her mind.  His
hand slipped inside her dress; his fingers stroked her bare breast, tweaked
a nipple.  He was kissing the corner where her shoulder became her neck. 
Her emotions soared as her dress dropped.

   Jonathan stroked down her body.  He noticed that she was wearing no
drawers.  Clearly, she had made her decision before coming to his cabin. 
He wanted her.  Was it time to lead her to his bed?  But the grass in his
mattress was crushed and smelly.  He decided on a better place; the patch
of mint would be in the shade of the cabin this late in the afternoon.  He
reached her mound, parted those lips, stroked her juices up the slit.  The
girl was ready for him, and he was damn ready for the girl.

   "Sarah, we're going outside.  I'll get the quilt." He stooped in habit
because the roof slanted down well below his height; grabbed the quilt off
his mattress; returned to the doorway.  She was holding her dress in front
of her.  He took her hand to lead her out and around the corner.  Grass had
grown to tower over the mint.  It was too late to scythe it; the grass
would provide padding for their bed.  He tossed the quilt over the long
blades of grass and helped her down on it.  She was still wearing shoes, if
nothing else.  He lay down beside her and began to kiss her breast.

   If his hands on her breasts had excited her, his lips and tongue on her
nipple drove her wild.  While he kissed her there, he removed her shoes. 
Then his hand stroked up the inside of her legs.  When it reached the
junction, the thrills increased.  She soared.

   He stroked Sarah through a climax while sucking on her nipple.  When she
fell back against the quilt, he unbuttoned his pants.  He pushed them off.
He could smell her arousal under the sharp odor of the mint they were
crushing with their weight.  He kissed her far breast while his hand
returned to her puffy lower lips.  He stroked the tiny nubbin where they
met once.  Then he raised his head from her breast to look her in the eyes.

   "Sarah, are you certain that this is what you want?"

   "Ye...  Will it hurt?" His finger had less than an inch to move.  Her
passage was blocked; she was a virgin.

   "Yes....  Do you want to do it yourself?" She looked puzzled.  He lay
down on his back and pulled her far arm.  When she knelt beside him, he
picked her up by the hips.  She weighed much less than the doe had, and his
position was better for lifting.  "Spread your knees." He placed her
astraddle him with a knee on each side of his chest.

   When she knelt beside him, Sarah got her first look at Jonathan's
erection.  It didn't impress a girl used to stallions and bulls.  The idea
of it going into her, however, became more frightening.  Then he was
swinging her into position, and his strength, attractive for the last week
and especially attractive since he had kissed her, became frightening, too.

   Seeing the look in her eyes, he moved her torso up until he could kiss
her breasts once more.  His left hand played with the other breast and his
right parted her lower lips and stroked between them once more.  Parting
them was easier with her legs spread this wide apart.  He waited until her
breath came in quick rasps before he spoke again.

   "Lower yourself on your heels.  That way I'll go in or you'll go around
me." As she moved back, he parted her lips even more and adjusted himself
to reach her opening with his tip.  "Now!" He was about to advise speed
when she moved back until he could feel the beginning of her passage and
the blockage in front of it.

   "Oh!" That pressure had hurt.  On the other hand, having him inside her,
if only the tiniest bit of him, had been exciting.

   "Well, do you want me to do it, after all?" He'd do it fast, which would
hurt least.  At her nod, he made his plan.  "One kiss first." As she bent
to kiss him, he pulled his feet up to his buttocks.  As she straightened
from the kiss, he raised his midsection and parted her lips until he was
back in the entrance, He lowered himself under her as she settled back.  He
moved his hands to the sides of her waist.

   "My brave Sarah," he said.  He shoved himself upwards and pulled down on
her pelvis at the same time.  He felt himself break into her channel.  She
tried to rise from the hurt, but she would have had to lift him with her.
When she settled down, it was on his hips.  He was buried deep within her.
"My brave girl," he repeated.  "Did that hurt much?"

   The kiss was pleasant, feeling her nipples press into his chest as
pleasant, the feeling of his fingers in her most secret place most pleasant
of all.  Then, the finger was replaced by something else, but he didn't
press in; he wouldn't until she was lying on her back again.  His hands
were on her hips and he was calling her brave for some reason.  Then it
hurt.  She tried to pull back, but couldn't in that position.  As the pain
faded, she sank down, conscious that he was deep within her.  He called her
brave again, although she'd shied away from that pain.  And he asked if it
had hurt.

   "Yes." It had hurt awfully.

   "Does it still?" To her surprise, the pain was much less.  And, there
was the feeling of him in her.

   "Not as much." And, now, his fingers were back on her right breast.  The
sensations of pleasure began to overtake those of pain.

   "When you are ready, and you will decide that, you can begin to move up
and down.  Rise about an inch from your heels and then sink down on them."
The first time she tried, there was a little more pain, but another
feeling, too.  Her motion produced an excitement a little like his hand had
produced down there.  When she rose again, he placed his hand on her lower
belly.  The sensations of pleasure had totally overcome those of pain.

   She moved steadily, now.  She rose and sank regularly, and the
sensations rose and rose.  Suddenly, they peaked.  She felt as though she
were on fire down there, but the fire was a pleasure.

   Jonathan enjoyed the hesitant motions of her tightness up and down on
his cock.  He stroked her firm breast and thumbed her tiny nodule.  Then
she stopped moving except for the rhythmic grip of her passage around his
cock.  Needing more motion, he grasped her and turned her onto her back on
the quilt.  He came out in the maneuver, but even that motion gave some
relief.  He plunged back in and began a fast, deliberate, stroke.

   Sarah was enjoying her new feeling when she was dumped on her back. 
Before she could protest, he was driving inside her.  The sensations
intensified and prolonged her climax.

   He stroked through her clutching, smooth, warmth.  He sped up, but the
feeling only intensified.  Then it grabbed him and shoved him as deep into
her as he could go.  He pulsed his seed into her.  Then he collapsed on top
of her.  As he gasped air into his lungs, he smelled the mustiness of the
quilt, the mint they had crushed in their thrashing, and a heady scent of
her arousal and completion.  When his strength returned, he moved.

   "Are you all right?" he asked.

   "Yes.  The hurt is gone."

   "In a moment, I'll bring you some water.  Wash your blood off.  It isn't
much, but you don't want to go home smelling of me."

   The end Quilt Uther Pendragon nogardneprethu@gmail.com

   Thanks to Denny for proofing this.

   Anther story of another girl's first time in another century:
/~Uther_Pendragon/story/april.htm

   The index to almost all my stories:
/~Uther_Pendragon/index.htm