Message-ID: <60570asstr$1281258612@assm.asstr.org>
From: Uther Pendragon <nogardneprethu@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} repost -- "Flights of Fancy" Uther) Mf pett 1st
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Date: Sun, 08 Aug 2010 05:10:12 -0400
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   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 work of fiction, not legal advice.


                              #   #  #   #   #

                              Flights of Fancy
                             by Uther Pendragon
                          nogardneprethu@gmail.com

   "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 story the lady wants," he said over the top of her head. "A
   story 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 old enough?"

   "She's a mare, sweetheart. She is old 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 breasts 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 men like me. I'll show her how the
     animals handle passions like ours. For we are animals, too, but
     animals 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 girl in my arms, and
     picture 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 girl
     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 sucking 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 stretch 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 old 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 stretch 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 breasts 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 young 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 breasts 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 girl 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 panties 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 girl 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 girl
     who has fled again. You'll remember how nice it is that you live in
     an old 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 girl should dress. And you will realize, a
     little late, that having your wicked ways with an innocent little
     girl 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 breasts 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 panties which are the next-to-last protection of her
     virginity, and the last symbol of your weird illusion that she --
     who is really old 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 mature for
   your age, and not only the bulges which make you so proud...."

   "My age!" she said. "Most girls my age have been sexually mature 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
   girls 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 man of twenty-eight is a much greater accomplishment than
   evoking it from a boy 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 old 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 men and women can
   satisfy each other even when their needs are on different schedules.
   Long before that time..."

     Instead of standing around a barn 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 old 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 parents 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 shirt 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 college 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 breast 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 parents worry about you.
   For that matter, we'll worry about a boy 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 breasts 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 breasts
     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 parents 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 girls 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 college 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
     family 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 breast 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
nogardneprethu@gmail.com
2000/02/03
2001/06/08
2002/03/04
2004/04/20
2010/08/07

For another story involving a woman's first
time, this one really happening, see:
/~Uther_Pendragon/brennan/forever.htm
"Forever."

This story is indexed in the subdirectory:
/~Uther_Pendragon/mf.htm
Mf Older Men, Younger Women

The directory to all my stories can be found
at:
/~Uther_Pendragon/index.htm
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