From: lex@ucscb.UCSC.EDU (The Cruel Puppet) Newsgroups: alt.sex Subject: Re: A story "When She Was Seventeen Summary: Here it is again..... Message-ID: <6292@portia.Stanford.EDU> Date: 1 Nov 89 08:21:48 GMT References: <23188@cup.portal.com> <244000032@prism> Sender: USENET News System <news@Portia.stanford.edu> Reply-To: lex@ucscb.UCSC.EDU (The Cruel Puppet) Organization: The Man with the "Four-way" hips Lines: 463 Posted: Wed Nov 1 09:21:48 1989 In article <244000032@prism> chw@prism.TMC.COM writes: > > > I too would like to read this. Can someone please re-post it? When She Was Seventeen.... by Char Walker copyright May, 1989 The old woman sat drowsing in a patch of morning sunshine, her black widow's garb drawing the sun's warmth and wrapping it all around her body. She was not really sleeping, there in the sun, but was so lost in old dreams and memories that the present had ceased to matter. She could smell the sweetness of spring, and in her mind she was back in a time when her body too possessed all that sweet promise of ripeness, of fulfillment. And in her mind she saw Tevya as the young man she first knew in the springtime of her life . . . Tevya with the dark eyes of a poet . . . "Sofia, I want you and your sisters to take the oxen down to the river and scrub them thoroughly. The buyers will be here tomorrow, and I want nothing to go wrong with the sale." Feodor Mendrayovich spoke with a gruff voice, but the whole village, and most especially his family, knew him to be the gentlest and kindest man in all the Ukraine. . . The sound of a man's voice, they said, was no way to measure the goodness that was in his heart. "But, Poppa!" Anya protested quietly, "Momma said I was to help her with the sewing today! She is showing me how to finish the embroidery on my cap. And maybe when I finish it, I can start on a new vest for you." She looked up at her father with pleading in her eyes. "It's all right, Poppa," Sofia spoke up before her father could respond. "Kati and I can manage just fine by ourselves, can't we?" Kati just nodded, her eyes shining with excitement. She loved the prospect of having her oldest sister all to herself. And to go to the river, too! This was an even better treat. It was no surprise to Feodor that Anya wanted to stay, while Sofia was more than willing to go. The two were as different as the seasons. Anya was quiet and shy, steady like a glowing hearthfire in mid-winter, while Sofia was a child of nature, passionate as a summer storm, and warm as the sun. And little Kati? It was too soon to tell what kind of woman his little Kati would turn out to be. "Come on, Kati," Sofia said as she headed up the stairs, "no sense in wearing good clothes for scrubbing the oxen. Let's see if there's anything in the rag basket whole enough to wear." A short time later Feodor watched his daughters, both dressed in his old, worn out white shirts--Kati's long enough to be a dress, but Sofia's tucked into a much patched, and faded red skirt--herd four placid oxen down the path toward the river. Kati was riding on the shoulders of one of the lead animals, while Sofia walked barefoot alongside, a long willow switch hanging idle in her hand. Although it was only the end of May, already the sun was hot and the water in the river was warm enough for bathing, not that the oxen would care. But the two charged with the task of washing them did care, and feeling the pleasantly cool water soaking through their clothing just added to their enjoyment of the day. "Kati, do you see that wagon, up there where the river curves?" Sofia asked as she poured water over the broad back of one of the animals. Kati straightened up, and, shielding her eyes with a dripping hand, peered upriver where strong winter floods had eroded away the shoreline, leaving a high overhanging embankment. There was a wagon parked up there, and a horse was tethered nearby--both a short distance from the edge of the overhang. "It looks like a peddler's wagon." she said. "But I don't see the peddler." "Look . . . there in the tall grasses at the very edge of the embankment . . . see that dark, flat spot? I think he's up there, watching us. Why don't we wave at him, and let him know that we know what he's up to?" Sofia asked, a little devil of mischief in her smile. Kati turned to look at Sofia, her impish grin matching the one on her sister's face. But before they could hatch their plan, they were startled by the sounds of tearing roots, and the splashes of things hitting the water. Looking quickly upriver to the source of the sounds, they were amazed to see the dark clothed body of a man, his arms windmilling and his legs frantically trying to run, falling through the air along with remains of the overhanging riverbank. "Help! I can't swim! Help!" The words reached them as they watched the man plunge, feet first, into the river. "Quick, Kati, run and get Poppa! I'm going to see if I can reach him!" Kati darted out of the water, up the hilly path and out of sight. Sofia launched herself into deeper water, and began swimming strongly upstream. She could see the man's arms flailing the water about 100 yards ahead of her. Suddenly he disappeared from sight, sucked under by the current. Sofia was thankful that she was wearing only a shirt and skirt--her usual petticoats would have hampered her efforts severely. She looked around for some sign of the man. He bobbed to the surface about 50 yards ahead. He saw her, and started yelling and waving his arms--and promptly went under again. "Fool!" Sofia thought as she swam as fast as she could to where she had seen him last. With the help of the current carrying him along, she reached him as he rose to the surface again. Treading water, she hurriedly checked to see if he was still breathing--his eyes were shut--she couldn't tell. Grabbing him by the back of his jacket collar, Sofia towed him towards the shore, the first few yards a hard struggle as she tried to break free of the river's current. Finally she reached the shallows and swam as far as the water would allow. She pulled herself up into a sitting position with her swimming arm, and with a last, exhausted effort dragged the man's limp body up across her legs and onto her lap. For the first minute all she could do was cradle him in against her body, and, panting, try to regain her breath. She didn't even have the energy to see if he was still alive. And in her exhausted state, she didn't realize that he might not be able to breathe, so closely was she pressing his face against her breast. A lightning flare of intense sensation swept through her body as she felt a warm insistent pulling on her cold-hardened nipple. She stared, wide-eyed, at the man who was sucking at her breast through the thin, transparent cloth of the old shirt, each contraction of his bearded cheek sending waves of cold fire through her--cold that changed to heat when it reached her core, igniting in her such a sweet, sexual ache as she had never felt before. None of her experiences with the local boys had ever stirred her as deeply, as intensely, as this. The man became aware of her staring regard and released his hold on her breast. A small, involuntary 'oh' of regret whispered from Sofia when he did this. He turned his head to look full in her face--just inches away from his own. His dark eyes gazed directly into hers as he solemnly asked, "Are you an angel?" Before she could summon the presence of mind to answer him, Sofia heard the running footsteps of her father and Kati coming towards them. "He's alive! Poppa, he's alive!" she shouted joyfully at them. At once her father slowed his headlong run down to a walk, but Kati raced on, not slowing until she joined them at the water's edge. The young man struggled to his feet, and took a few shaky steps up onto the shore. Sofia arose swiftly and, with Kati, stood close by in case he should fall. He swayed a bit, but was steady enough to turn and extend his hand to Sofia. "Thank you for saving my life." he said gravely, his dark eyes once again looking deeply into hers. "Without you I would surely have drowned." Sofia took his hand, feeling a little thrill of excitement run through her when she touched him. But she was again at a loss for a reply. What do you say when a man thanks you for his life? Especially this one who had, with only the pull of his mouth on her breast, created such an intense sexual longing in her. 'You're welcome' was much too inadequate. Her father's arrival broke the frozen moment. The young man tried to stand without swaying, as he straightened his shoulders, and extended his hand in greeting to Feodor. "Sir. My name is Tevya, the Peddler." The two men shook hands. Tevya continued speaking as he turned to look at Sofia, "Your beautiful daughter has, . . ." his voice faltered as their eyes met, ". . . has just saved my life." Sofia dropped her eyes, and was mortified to feel a blush start to warm her cheeks. She never blushed! All too aware of the sudden, uncomfortable silence, the young man nervously started talking again to Feodor. "As you can see, I'm not a terribly good peddler, my clothes are old, and I usually don't have enough to eat. That's why I'm so thin . . . I keep on using my earnings to buy books and forget to buy food." He rattled on, speaking faster and faster. "But I do have a sturdy wagon to live in, and a good horse to pull it." He gestured with a jerky movement of his arm to point out to Feodor his small camp just up the hill. "She's a good horse, a faithful companion on the road . . . I would be so lonely without her to talk to . . ." Once again his voice faded, but this time it was because he was starting to crumple into a dead faint at Feodor's feet. "I . . . uh . . ." Feodor caught him just as he lost consciousness. He lifted Tevya into his arms as if the man weighed no more than Kati. "You girls go round up the oxen and take them back home. I'll carry our young friend up to his 'sturdy wagon'!" Feodor started up the gently sloping hillside. "No, Poppa, wait! I'm going with you." Sofia said. "I want to make sure he's going to be all right" One look at her determined expression and Feodor knew it would be useless to argue. Sofia could be very, very stubborn once she had decided to do something. He sighed. "All right, you can spend a little time to fix him something hot to drink, and to make sure he doesn't take a chill. But I'm the one who will put him to bed! And you are to return home in time for supper!" His stern, paternal gaze fell on Sofia's meekly lowered head. He knew that the meekness was a pretense meant to mollify him, but he also knew that he could trust her good common sense to keep her out of any real trouble. "Kati," Feodor called back over his shoulder, "round up the animals. I'll be back in a few minutes and we will take them home together." Feodor and Sofia set out up the hill with Tevya still unconscious in Feodor's arms. The inside of Tevya's wagon was just as Feodor had expected- -walls lined with books, the one lone chair piled with papers and more books. The only clear space was the bed, and it was surprisingly well made--the covers turned back to reveal clean, fresh sheets topped by two soft wool blankets. Feodor gently lowered Tevya onto the bed, and deftly removed his boots and garments--piling the wet clothing on the floor. And, though he searched every possible storage place, he couldn't find anything resembling a nightshirt, so he finally just pulled the blankets and top sheet from under the man's body, and tucked them back over him as if Tevya were a sleepy child he was putting to bed. "You don't look much older than my children," Feodor mused as he looked at Tevya's face. "That brave beard wouldn't fool a blind man! How come such an intelligent young man like you has to make his living as a peddler? Maybe you'll tell us when you wake up." With that Feodor left the wagon and joined Sofia outside by the fire. "He must have intended to come home soon," she said. "He left a kettle of water in the bed of coals to stay hot. I found a small box of tea in his larder, and a teapot and a cup . . . but Poppa," she looked at her father with concern, "I didn't find any food except these bread crusts, this little bit of cheese, and some honey in the bottom of a jar." "You'll never know what he was planning to do before his unexpected bath in the river." Feodor answered. "Maybe he was going to come to our farm to trade for food. It doesn't matter now, anyway." "No I guess not." she agreed. "Well, I had best get Kati and go on home and reassure your Mother and Anya that you didn't drown. Kati wasn't any too clear about exactly who it was who had fallen into the river and was going to drown." Feodor smiled ruefully at Sofia and headed back down the hill. Sofia checked the teapot again, and decided the tea had steeped long enough. She poured some into the cup, added a little honey, and carried the hot cup carefully over to the wagon. She knocked lightly on the door to announce her entry, but didn't wait for a reply--she didn't know if he had even awakened yet. The wagon was dark after the bright sunshine, and she stood a moment after closing the door, waiting for her eyes to adjust. "Is . . . is that you, my b-beautiful angel?" Tevya's voice came softly to her ears. "You do-don't n-need . . . need to fuh- feel af-fraid." His voice was shaking. "At the mo-moment I ca- can't do mo-more than l-lie here and sh-shiver." "Oh, Tevya! Here . . . I've brought you some hot, sweet tea." Sofia moved over to the side of the bed. "Drink this and soon you'll feel much better." He brought one arm out from under the covers, but his hand was shaking so badly that she hesitated to give him the cup, afraid that he would spill the tea all over himself before he had a chance to drink any of it. "H-here . . . l-let me try wi-with b-both hands." Another long-fingered hand reached out for the cup. She put it in his hands, but quickly put her hands back over his to steady them as another fit of shivering seized him and threatened to spill the tea all over the bed. She took the cup from him, and he quickly put his arms back under the covers and wrapped his arms around his shaking body. "Maybe I should hold the cup while you sip." she decided. "But I can't very well do that without sitting on the bed. And I don't want to get the bed wet by sitting on it in my wet clothes." She looked around for something to solve her little dilemma. "Have you any other clothes besides the ones you were wearing?" "N-no." "Are there any more sheets." "N-no." "Do you have any towels?" "I'm-m s-sorry, n-no." He seemed rather dejected that he had none of the things she had asked for. Sofia was getting exasperated. The tea was starting to cool, and she still hadn't managed to get any of it's warmth into him. Well, she did know one way to manage it . . . "Ok, keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them!" "I w-will. B-but what are y-you d-doing?" "Never mind . . . you'll know soon enough." She put the cup of tea on the floor within reach of the bed, quickly took her clothes off, and climbed into bed, carefully tucking the covers chastely around her. He felt her movement, but didn't question her again and waited, patiently, eyes closed, his whole body shivering uncontrollably. She sat up, and reached over to retrieve the tea. She made sure that the covers were being held in place under her arms, and only then told him he could open his eyes. His expression on seeing her was one of shock. "B-but if you f-father c-comes in, he'll k-kill me!" "Just hush." Sofia ordered. "My father isn't going to come in, he's already home by now. Here, let me raise your head up a bit, and have you drink some of this tea." She cradled his head against her upper arm, and held the cup for him to drink. He was so close that she could see each separate, dark eyelash, and the little laugh lines at the edges of his eyes. For just a moment she rested her cheek lightly against his hair. He didn't seem to mind her touch. "More?" "Yes, please." "What's your name? I can't keep calling you 'my beautiful angel'." "No, I suppose not. My name is Sofia." "Sofia . . . so soft, so lovely, Sofia." "More tea?" "Er . . . yes, please." Even after he had finished drinking the tea, neither one moved. It feels so right to hold him in my arms like this, Sofia thought. Suddenly she felt his body shake with another fit of shivering. "Are you all right," she asked with concern. "I'm-m f-fine, I j-just c-can't s-seem to s-stay w-warm." "Stay still, I have an idea." Sofia untucked the covers from around her, and moved her body up against his. His skin was very, very cold against hers. She hoped her idea would work, because she couldn't think of anything else. "Here, turn towards me, and let me hold you close. Yes, that's the idea." She felt him resist ever so briefly when she first started, but after looking a brief question into her eyes, and seeing her reassuring smile, he breathed a shivering sigh and cuddled into her warmth. She put one arm under his head, and tucked his face up against her neck, while holding him close to her with her other arm. She moved her hips close to his, and held him to her with her thigh. She breathed a sigh of her own, and relaxed back into the pillows. She must have drifted to sleep for a moment, because when she awoke, Tevya was no longer shivering. He was softly, slowly kissing her neck and shoulder. His left hand no longer hugged his cold body, but was moving in light, drifting strokes over her breasts, circling up to tease her hardening nipples, and then sliding away again. He felt her awaken, and leaned back to look in her eyes--his were so dark they almost looked black. She fell into them and was instantly swept up in a passionate response to his touch. He moved up a little in the bed until their heads were level. His hand glided down the slope of her breast and up along the line of her throat. Softly he traced along her jaw, and the curve of her lips. Her mouth yearned for his kiss, and her eyes told him so. He lowered his mouth onto hers and she opened to welcome him. His hand returned to caress her breast and she arched her body against his, pushing her nipple against his hand. Her thigh which had lain so innocently atop his, now drew his lower body closer to her. She felt the hard urgency of his penis thrust against her belly. The long first kiss broke, and their lips explored and learned the contours of each other's faces until they could no longer stand the separation of their mouths. And they kissed again, as if to fuse their passion by this meeting alone. She shifted until she was under him, her hands dancing across his back, her breath quickening with her pulse. Her body began to rock underneath his. He broke the kiss abruptly, and tried to regain enough control to speak coherently, pushing up with his arms to rise slightly up and away from her. "Sofia! Sofia, please stop! Do you know what you are doing? What we are doing?" She pulled his body back against hers. "Tevya, I know what we are doing and what we are doing is right!" She kissed him, teasing his tongue with her own, telling him without words that his passion was matched by hers. She slipped her right hand down his side, and slid it between their bodies until she was touching the warm hardness of his penis. He groaned deep in his throat at her touch. The skin was so soft, so smooth--softer than her own. She trailed her fingers down and up the shaft, pausing to moisten them at the top, before sliding them down again. Her body again started rocking up against his and she pulled her hand away from its teasing dance, not wanting to feel anything but his body moving on hers. Her hands started caressing his wonderfully rounded behind, kneading the soft roundness, and urging him to get closer, closer, to join his body with hers. He broke the kiss again, but this time he didn't speak words. With his hand cupping her breast from beneath, holding her up and ready for him, his mouth sucked her nipple with greedy hunger. She moaned . . . lost in sensation . . . His other hand started pulling and teasing at her other breast, squeezing the hardened nipple in rhythm with the sucking pressure of his mouth. She arched under him, trying to fit him inside her . . . trying to assuage the aching itch that was tormenting her inside. "Please, please . . . I want you in me . . ." How could he refuse such a request? Supporting himself on one arm, he cupped her mound with his hand, squeezing gently once . . . twice. He then parted the lips with a finger, and stroked downward across her clitoris to the slippery opening of her vagina. She groaned and pushed herself up against his hand. He inserted his finger to collect a little fluid, and repeated the downward journey. She again arched her back and thrust herself up into his hand . . . her face was turned to the side--buried into the pillow's softness . . . her look one of lost abandon. Once again he sucked her nipple into his mouth, while his finger rubbed her hardened clitoris. Sofia was drowning in sensation. Never had she been so lost to a man's touch . . . never had she felt such a need for completion! She looked at him, there at her breast. He sensed her gaze, and lifted his eyes to her. All of her longing, all of her passion was written on her face, in her eyes. His mouth released her breast, his hand stopped its torment on her clitoris. He positioned himself over her, and she guided him into her warm and waiting body. She gasped in wonder at the penetration of his first thrust. She felt herself tighten around him, and moved to match his rhythm. Her legs wrapped around his to hold him even closer to her. Her hands pressed his lower back to thrust him even deeper into her. They became a unit, working in a single rhythm, moving to a common goal. They kissed until kissing became a distraction, and then they held each other as closely as their arms could manage. Both feeling the heat and the friction building and building up to a flashfire. He held back slightly, waiting for her, but he didn't have to wait long. The building flood of feeling that was setting her afire reached a clenching peak of intensity that sent waves of excitement throughout her body, she arched up to meet his thrust and remained there--holding the feeling for as long as she could. She wasn't even aware of the low moans she was uttering. Briefly the excitement waned, only to peak again, and once again she held rigid, tight against him. Her movements triggered his own release and she felt his warm explosion inside her as her second orgasm faded away to an all encompassing, tingling warmth. They lay there enfolded in each other for long moments, the silence of the wagon disturbed only by the sounds of their panting breath. As their breathing slowed, once again their hands started exploring each other's bodies, only now the caresses held the warmth of affection instead of the excitement of passion. They kissed, gentle with the wonder of what they had felt, and had shared, and were still sharing. Sofia pulled the covers up over Tevya's body as it lay atop hers. Her feeling of caring for him, of concern for his well-being were tender and precious. He breathed a sigh of relaxed contentment. Feodor cleaned the muck from his boots, and washed his hands at the barnyard pump. He had been watching the path for Sofia's return for the past hour, while he cleaned the oxen's stalls. He was a little concerned, but not overly so. He decided it was time to go speak with his wife, Marika, and tell her of his thoughts. Marika, with Kati's help, was just finishing the dinner preparations when her husband entered the house. He shooed Kati out of the kitchen and closed the door. Marika was startled by this, and looked questioningly at him. "Marika," he began, "Would you be terribly hurt if one of our daughters ran away with a handsome young man who is trying hard to be a peddler?"