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The Long Road

By: emmie18



Nerys hung her arm out of the window of her old ford car and tapped the battered side in time to the music booming from her radio. The air was humid and the traffic jam ran for many miles in front and behind her. Sighing she ran her hands through her long dark hair and shook it out behind to try and cool herself down. Suddenly several motor bikes speed past her stationary car, throwing up a load of dust from the dry track. Swearing, she wiped the dust out of her clear blue eyes. This was just taking the piss. Here she was stuck in the middle of a traffic jam in the middle of Brazil and she was getting just a little bit annoyed. Alright she was more than just a little annoyed. But since she couldn’t do anything she settled back to wait for the traffic to disperse. It was two hours before Nerys was speeding down the still crowded motorway. The wind blew in through the open window and blew her hair out behind her. As she drove along she noticed someone at the side of the road trying to wave down a car. Unfortunately for the person all of the other drivers were ignoring him. Nerys felt sorry for this poor stranded person, she could see a bike next to him (or her) and obviously he had broken down. Nerys decide to help him. She had broken down numerous times since she had started out on her journey in her rather run down old car and she knew just how difficult it was to fix it at the side of the road without help.

Indicating, she pulled over to the side of the road just ahead of the person. A minute later a rather attractive young man stuck his head through her window and smiling said, “Wow! Someone that actually cares about her fellow human beings!"

Laughing Nerys replied, "Hey, its ok. What’s the problem? Can I help with anything?"

"I think I've left bits of my ride all down the road!" He laughed. "I don’t suppose I could strap my bike to the back and grab a lift to the next service station?"

"Okay, no problem. It might take a while though. Those stations aren’t exactly that common in this part of the world."

"Shit, tell me about it! I don’t mind how long it takes so long as there is one somewhere!" He looked back at his rather forlorn looking bike lying at the side of the road. “I guess I’d better get that strapped up. I won’t be too long."

"Do you want a hand?"

"No. It'd be too heavy for you to lift anyway."

"OK" replied Nerys.

It only took the young man ten minutes to get his bike tied up to the back of her car. Unsurprisingly, her car groaned as the extra weight pulled it closer to the ground. The man sat down heavily in the passenger seat and began to pull off his leather jacket.

"Jesus, it gets hot in that thing!" He turned to Nerys and held out his hand. "I'm Miguel."

"I’m Nerys." Said Nerys, as she shook his outstretched hand. Looking into her mirror she spotted an opening in the thick traffic and with a turn of speed that was surprising considering the state of her car, she pulled out into the steady flow of cars, trucks and bikes. They drove for around twenty miles before either of them spoke again.

"Nerys......" Said Miguel. He looked rather thoughtful. "That’s an unusual name."

Nerys pulled a face. "Yeah I know. My parents are just a little bit weird and decide that my brothers and I should all have 'new age' names. My brothers are called Odoe and Kael."

Miguel gave a little chuckle, "At least they're original."

"I suppose so. Where are you headed then?" Asked Nerys, trying to change the subject away from her rather unusual parents.

"Where ever the road goes I guess. To tell you the truth I don’t really know."

The traffic had slowed to a halt again, so Nerys turned in her seat to look at this rather foolish (in her opinion at least) young man. Her left eyebrow had shot up and almost appeared to be in danger of disappearing into her hairline. She opened and closed her mouth a few times as she looked at him. This was the first time she had really looked at him in the whole time he had been in her car. He was well built, slender but with a slight broadness across his shoulders that his leather jacket had hidden. His dark brown hair was tousled by the wind coming in through the windows and flopped down into his eyes. Her fingers suddenly itched to push it away from his face. His eyes were typical of all South Americans, dark and sultry, speaking of hidden secrets and untold pleasures. Suddenly, she blushed and looked away. Those eyes had stirred something deep in her. Something she hadn’t even realized was there. Suddenly she was aware of her own body as it unconsciously prepared itself for sexual intercourse, something that she had never even witnessed before, let alone participate in.

She sneaked a peek back at him. He was looking at her with a slightly amused expression on his face. He knew exactly what had just happened to her. He flashed a knowing grin at her and very deliberately reached over and ran his fingertips down her arm. He gave a low chuckle as she shivered at his touch. He slid across the gap between them and gently kissed her cheek. Then he began to slowly kiss his way down to her neck, nuzzling at her earlobe causing her to gasp as he tickled her with the tip of his tongue. Suddenly he sat back, keeping his hand on her neck, and looked at her. She was flushed, her breathing had deepened slightly and her eyes were closed. He bent forward so that his mouth touched her ear again with her mouth, "You're a virgin aren't you?"

She jumped as his words registered in her confused brain, "No I’m not" She flustered. "I’ve been with loads of men........."

Her voice trailed off as his tongue ran down her jaw line to her chin, “My dear I’m afraid you're a terrible liar, you know. I know when a woman is a virgin and you sweetheart are very much a virgin. In fact I bet you've never been kissed properly before."

"I have so!" She exclaimed.

"Oh really?" He sounded amused now. "Did the kiss make your knees tremble? Did it make you gasp for breath when you brake apart? Did it make you feel like this?"

Suddenly he kissed her. His mouth covered her, smothering any protests. At first he kept his mouth closed but when he felt her begin to relax he opened his mouth and encouraged her lips to part with his own lips. It didn’t take very long. She was weak, trembling against his chest. He folded his arms around her. The world seemed to shrink down to just their mouths; the feel of their lips against each other, Nerys began to moan slightly as his tongue dipped into her mouth, as his teeth grazed her lips........ Suddenly a loud blast from a lorry horn broke them out of their kiss.

"Hey! Will you bloody well move! I haven’t got all day!" Shouted the annoyed lorry driver.

Blushing, Nerys moved the car forward. The traffic had cleared whilst Miguel had been kissing her and she was holding up a line of vehicles behind her. 

It was long time before either of them talked to each other again. Miguel sat there watching her. She was trying her best not to look at him but every so often she would glance at him and she would see him looking at her, and blushing, she would hurriedly look away. Secretly she was pleased that he wanted to look at her but she was also worried. She had let a perfect stranger render her almost helpless. She had been powerless to stop him and she knew that if he did it again she would be lost to him forever. Miguel knew what she was thinking. Her thoughts showed on her face. She was confused, unsure of how to handle the situation. Perfect he thought, give a little time and I know she'll want more of what I’ve got to offer.

It was nearing nightfall when they finally came across one the few motels dotting the long expanse of motorway. Many people just slept in their cars but Nerys wanted a room with a real bed. She was tired of having to sleep on the uncomfortable back seat of the car, and she wanted a bath, if they had any baths in the place. She had another reason too. She wanted a locked door between her and Miguel. He was beginning to worry her, the way he was looking at her made her nervous. The motel receptionist was helpful.........up to a certain point. It was obvious that he thought that Nerys and Miguel should share a room; after all since they were traveling together, didn’t that mean they were lovers, senhorina? Miguel lounged in a chair by the door as Nerys argued with the motel manager about the sleeping arrangement. It wasn’t long before Nerys had beaten the manager down and had securedred two rooms for them. It had cost her extra but it had been worth it. She was getting a room with a bath and she planned to make full use of it. Unfortunately, so did Miguel.

"Will you just piss off!" She screamed at him through her door.

"But sweetheart.......I need to have a bath too." Pleaded Miguel, his voice had become whiney. "I’m just as smelly and dirty as you are."

"I don’t care how smelly or how dirty you are!" screeched Nerys. "You are not coming in!"

Heads began to pop out of windows and doors as Miguel and Nerys' argument became louder and louder. It must have looked slightly suspicious, as Miguel was standing outside the door in only his towel. Finally Miguel shook his head in disgust and began to walk back to his room. One of his neighbours, who were just more than slightly concerned by Nerys' behaviour, came over to him as he walked along the balcony, "Listen friend, do you really want to get into that room?"

"Yes of course I do! Unfortunately, my girlfriend is going through one of her funny stages again, so she made me get a separate room. And now she won’t even let me use her shower!" He ran his hand through his hair angrily.

"So you want to make up with her, yes?" inquired the little man.

"Yes! We've got a long journey ahead of us and I don’t particularly want to walk any of it!"

"If I tell you a way to get into the room you won't hurt her?" He asked.

"Why would I hurt her?" Miguel asked in a puzzled voice.

"Good. Look above the overhang off the roof outside her room. There is a spare key there."

"Gee thanks mate!" exclaimed Miguel.

"You're welcome." Replied the man, as he went back into his room.

Miguel went back into his room also. He decided to wait for a little while before he tried to break into Nerys's room. He layback on his single bed and imagined her lying on her bed, pleasuring herself. He shook his head........no.........she wouldn’t be doing that. She was too innocent. She would be asleep. Just lying there.......hopefully in a white nightdress.......looking all sweet and innocent..........like a little virgin..........just waiting for the perfect man to awaken the passion within her. He grinned. His cock suddenly jerked and he glanced down at it. It was straining hard up again his belly; he reached down and absentmindedly stroked it. It jerked again and he stilled it with his hand. Oh Nerys he thought you are going to enjoy tonight! I promise you that. 

In fact Nerys wasn’t asleep. At least, not yet. She was thinking about Miguel. She shook her head and tried to rid her mind of the tantalising images in there, but it didn’t work. She rolled onto her stomach and pressed her face into the cool pillow. Suddenly she smiled. Miguel had been a bit shocked when she told him that this was her room. He had protested saying that he wanted a big bed for the night, that he had never slept in one before but she had put her foot down and he had wandered off to his room sulking. She remembered he had looked very cute pouting the way he had. Why am I thinking about him? She suddenly thought. Alright he's attractive but I don't need a man. Men are only trouble. So why do I keep thinking about that kiss? Maybe I should have let him use the bath. It’s not like it would have hurt. A darker deeper part of her mind broke in at that point you want him to kiss you again, don’t you? That’s why you're thinking these thoughts aren't you. You wanted to let him in, didn't you? So that he could kiss you again. You want more than a kiss, don't you Nerys. That startled her and with a resolve almost inhuman like, she put Miguel from her mind and fell asleep.

It was nearing midnight when Miguel slipped out of his room and padded softly towards Nerys' room. He searched for the key to her room in the place that the little man had said and found it. A broad grin covered his handsome face as he fingered the key in the palm of his hand. Quietly he fumbled with the lock and silently slipped into Nerys' room. He carefully locked the door behind him and then walked over to the larger double bed in the middle of the room. Nerys was lying to one side of the bed, as if she was inviting another person to join her in the big bed. She was snuggled up to a pillow and was gently snoring into it. Miguel smiled as he noticed that she only wore her knickers and nothing else. She looked so innocent, so vulnerable lying there. He slowly peeled his clothes off and then gently eased himself onto the bed so not to wake her. As he lay there beside her she unconsciously moved closer to him, snuggling up against his body as if she was seeking comfort and warmth. He sighed and gently enfolded her into his arms. She was like a small child the way she cuddled up against him, causing his aching cock to strain and jerk almost continually. It was almost too much for him. 

Taking a deep breath he lay back with her in his arms. He loved these moments, when he had a woman encased in the warm protective circle of his arms. It made him feel complete; just to lie with a woman was sometimes enough. But not tonight. Tonight he needed something more, something to ease the ache in his body, his balls, and his cock. He grinned at the dark ceiling before he began to gently run his fingertips up and down her spine, causing her to shiver and gasp quietly in her sleep. Then he moved his lips to the side of her face and began to slowly give her little kisses, gentle, almost feather light kisses which began to move down to her neck. Carefully he moved her onto her back. He gave a low chuckle as her snoring increased in volume. He sat up and back and looked at her. The moonlight was shining through the window and just hit her body. Her skin glowed sliver in the pale light, making her look even more fragile and delicate. Her breasts were large and soft, with gloriously large aureoles and perfect nipples just a tiny bit larger than a pea. They were sunk slightly into her armpits as she lay on her back. Her belly was smooth and flat, but just slightly protruding which gave a slightly pregnant appearance. Her waist was small but her hips were large, combined with her breasts she had a classic 'hour-glass' figure, which Miguel found to be wonderful. Her ass was large (as it would be since she had large hips) but it was firm and round.

Miguel sighed as he looked down at this beautiful woman. Well, not a woman yet! He thought But we shall soon sort that out won't we sweetheart. As she lay there, gently snoring, unaware of what was about to happen, Miguel began to trace his fingertips lightly over her breasts. Circling them with his fingers, slowly he worked his way towards her nipples. He was breathing hard, concentrating on the task at hand. Her nipples were beginning to harden as he moved his way towards them and by the time his fingers touched the dark flesh surrounding them, they had hardened to point where they stood hard and erect. Gently he tweaked her nipples causing her to groan in her sleep. She moved her head for one side to the other and shifted her body slightly, as if trying to find a more comfortable position. Miguel held his breath, ready to slide off the bed and under it if she should begin to wake up, but she settled down and soon she was breathing normally again. Miguel placed his hand on her left breast and began to knead it gently; he watched her face seeing it crease slightly as the new sensation traveled to her unconscious brain. He moved his other hand across her belly lingering on her navel, tickling her. He was more wary now, sensing that maybe she might wake up at any time. He didn’t want that to happen. Not yet. He knew she would wake up eventually, but not yet!

He slid his hand down lower and found the top of her knickers. He glanced down and saw that they were white lace. How appropriate! He thought pretty little virgin panties on a pretty little virgin. He carefully lifted her hips up and started to slide her delicate panties off of her gorgeous backside. He gave a gasp as he caught his first glimpse of her virgin pussy.........it was completely bald.........he had never felt so turned on before in his life. His cock was throbbing so badly. God if I don't get some control on myself I’m going to end up just fucking her now! Or I'll end up loosing my load. He carefully pulled her knickers over the ends of her slim feet and tossed them onto the bare floor. Gently, he pushed her legs apart just enough so he could she her cunt properly. In the pale light shining through the window he could see the juices glistening on the lips of her labia. He reached out and ran his fingertip across her pussy lips, wiping the wetness onto his fingers. Lifting his fingers to his face he inhaled deeply, smelling the heady scent of feminine arousal. Even while she was asleep Nerys' body was responding to his caresses. Suddenly he lost control, as the sweet scent of her juice sent him over the edge. His cock jerked violently as he shot out his seed onto the bed sheets. Sheepishly he looked at the mess he had made. Then he shrugged. It wouldn’t be difficult for him to get another hard on. Even as he was looking at the picture of innocence and beauty lying beside him his drained manhood was slowly rising in preparation for the task ahead.

He slid himself down lower on the bed until his face was level with her hips and the inviting gap in between her legs. Carefully he pried her legs open even further and moved himself to lie in between them. His face was right in front of her pussy and he could see that the glistening lips had swollen slightly. Gently he opened her pussy lips just enough so that he could touch her moist folds. The scent of her pussy at this level was almost over-powering. Slowly he slid his fingers over the folds around her clitoris. He felt her shudder slightly under his fingers. He gave another one of his grins and slowly pulled back the delicate hood covering her most precious organ. He could see that the little piece of flesh was straining upwards, just begging to be touched, to be licked, to be sucked on until she came. He moved forwards a bit so that he was closer to her and buried his mouth into her pussy, enveloping her clit with his lips and tongue. He felt her body jerk more violently than before and decided to wrap his arms around her legs so that, if she did wake up, she wouldn’t be able to wriggle out of his grasp before he had time to give her the full benefit of his mouth. Then, he began to lap at her with his tongue. He was slightly surprised to feel her leg muscles tighten as she came. He carried on lapping at her, alternating between flicking her clit and driving his tongue deep into her pussy. Suddenly he felt her fingers entwined in his hair. She was crying out in ecstasy as his tongue brought her closer to the edge again, her body was writhing against his mouth, trying to push him deeper into her sopping cunt. The, all of a sudden, she came. Her cries changed into screams as she came hard against his mouth, she shuddered uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure struck her body.

Realizing that once her orgasm had finished, Nerys would be angry and want him to leave, Miguel rose up and lay across her violently trembling body. He pushed himself forwards, trying to find her entrance. He missed the first time, and then missed as he tried again. Then, almost by accident, he found her pussy opening and thrust himself forward into her. She gasped as his length filled her to bursting point. As the remnants of her orgasm subsided she became aware of a new sensation inside her. She struggled to pull her thoughts together, to work out what this foreign object was but soon anything even remotely resembling thought was driven from her mind as new waves of pleasure began to build up. She began to move in rhythm to the steady thrusts of the long hard cock inside her sensitive pussy. Miguel, sensing her approach to the gate of paradise, began to slowly increase his pace, causing both of them to moan in pleasure.


The Long Road



In a while I sped onto the motorway once more, refreshed by the lemonade and ice cream you took so much pleasure in buying for us both; my lips still cool from this treat. We soon get up to speed joining the other sparse traffic; I have to close the windows again to keep out the noise of the road, relying on the fan to keep us cool in the blazing sun. 

I look at you and you gaze ahead, the long wide road stretching for so far ahead. We could drive all day if we wanted. As the window closed out the sounds of the road we sense we are alone in the car, alone in our own precious world, happy like little children. 

At this time, the road seems to clear as soon as we pass a long, articulated lorry. It is a lovely feeling and I see you spread yourself luxuriously onto the seat beside me, just as a cat might, after its dinner and a pleasant stroke from the mistress. I let off the power and we cruise in comfort on the straight road. 

Reaching out I touch your thigh; you slip down the seat even further and sigh at the feel of my fingers through your thin skirt. Mellow sounds fill the car from the stereo and I look in the mirror to see the lorry fade into a dot behind us. Like a child, checking that no one was watching before stealing a treat, I let my hand slide along your soft skin, cleverly gripping the thin cloth so that the skirt slid upwards with my hand. 

Soon, I felt the shape of your thigh as it blended into your groin.

I pretend that you do not realise that I had slyly exposed your legs, thrilling in the knowledge that you do know it! 

You sigh again and caress my hand as if to tell it to go on. 

I crudely pull your skirt high and gaze at the thin white briefs disappearing between your thighs. My hand gently glides over the tempting cloth and I feel already you are damp. 

I flick my eyes to the road and stay in line, safely. Indeed, I keep my head facing ahead and let my fingers walk blindly over your sexy flesh. 

Your legs part for me, half in relaxation and half in yielding pleasure-seeking desire. I slide along the pouting lips beneath the cloth and tempt them to part for me. As I do so, you let out a sigh and I feel the gap between the spongy, swelling lips. 

I want to feel you properly and risking spoiling the ambience, I ask you to remove them for me. 

My voice is husky and very unconvincing yet you obey immediately. 

I watch you pull them over your feet at the same time, placing them on the consul between us. 

I let you relax again and then pull your skirt up once more. 

This time I look at you and you smile back at me. Pulling my hand from the gear lever, you place it on your leg for me in invitation. 

I feel crude at once and push at your thighs to open them. I can see your sex so clearly. I check the road and then gaze at your exposed skin in turn. The sun is hot on my hand and it shines fully on your sex, down your thighs to your knees. I lift the skirt higher and you help by grabbing it for me, holding it out of the way. Your sex is totally open to my greedy eyes. I touch you there and again you thrill me with a sigh. You slide down the seat and open yourself even more for me. I let my fingers slide over you enjoying so much lovely woman-ness, as if I was a rich man adoring his treasure. 

Liquid simply dripped from you and I scooped it onto my fingers and brought it to my mouth. I waited for you to open your eyes and watch me. 

You did so and I held my sopping fingers in the sunlight. Happy that you can see me, I lift it to my mouth and with exaggerated movements; I lick it as if it were the best cream in the world.



I half expected you to feign shock, which would amuse me, but instead, you do even better and simply smile, lift a hand to soothe my lips in a happy gesture and feed my fingers into my mouth, sharing my delight. I see your legs close in desire at the same time, your muscles clamping tight on your sex, tingling, sending thrills into your belly. 

Ahead of us is a lorry and I start to pull out into the middle lane. In a few seconds we pass the long, heavy truck, its huge wheels making such a noise beside us, showing how much power the engine has. As we pass I look up high to see the driver, way above us, his eyes on the road, merely glancing down briefly at the car beside him. 

As if you could feel his eyes, your legs crossed covering yourself. 

I looked back in the mirror later and he showed no sign that he saw anything more than a passing car. 

Again, ahead, the road is clear and we glide on smoothly. 

Now you pull my hand from my mouth and return it to your sex. This time you lift one leg and rest it on the door in comfort, the other pushed close toward me against the consul between us; you want to open yourself to me as much as you can. The sun shines on you in an intimate way and also thrills you with its affection. 

I can feel the same sensation on my skin as the bright warm sun joins us in our love car. You reach beside the car seat and adjust the backrest so that you can lay back further. This allows you to push up your hips into my hands, encouraging me and guiding me by moving into my touch.

I smooth your thighs pulling them apart just to emphasise my delight at your unladylike position, trying to fix them where they are. You turn your head to face me and roll closer, watching me drive, stealing lusty glances at your body. I sense the feeling of joy in you at my adoring looks and the growing confidence in your head as I respond in such a positive way, sharing exactly the thrills that you enjoy. I push your thighs but they cannot open any more. 

You wiggle your hips to suggest that you are trying to expose your body totally for me. My hand slides along your tingling thigh and approaches your puffed sex. Tenderly I glide my palm over it, as an embrace, a gesture of love, an affectionate caress and you push yourself into me. I want to tease you further and just let my palm rub over your trimmed hairs, feeling the swollen lips peeping through. 

You sigh and hold my wrist with both hands. I let you pull me close and the damp from your sex spreads over my palm and my fingers slip into the lovely crease of your bottom, touching your bum sexily. Now you are covered again, but you are not shy anymore; you want to feel my touch. There is another lorry ahead; I have to pull out to the middle lane again. I do this and you remain unaware, your face to me and your eyes closed a look of pleasure on your face. As we approach the lorry, you hear its loud wheels and I sense you stiffen in fear.

"Don't move darling" I order. 

You remain still yet you are still stiff and I can sense your distress. As we cruise past, you roll your head even further to me.

"Is he looking at me?" you ask. 

"Yes darling, he can see right through the screen and the side window and he is staring at you!" I answered, lying. 

I really can't see the driver yet, but I want to tease you and see what you do.

"Hurry past him darling!" you whisper; yet I sense the thrill in your voice, your throat tight and your words strained.

I push on the pedal and speed by. 

Again, the lorry driver came into view as we shot past him and he seemed to be unconcerned by us, only seeing the car and not the people.

"All clear darling!" I say and you really do relax now, slumping into the seat. 

You place your hand over the consul and onto my lap. My tool is half-hard and cramped in my tight jeans, but your place your hand on me and I start to respond. I want to move it to the side so that you can feel it properly, but I continue to stroke your exposed body. I want to see your breasts now, desperately and I let my slippery fingers go to your blouse and unbutton it. It is easy to do and I now pull your soft flesh over the top of your bra. 

You sigh again as you sense that you are almost totally exposed. So daring, yet scary, thrilling and frightening, yet we are completely safe in the car. 

I spend a few seconds making sure that your breasts are totally exposed and that they will not become embraced by the tight bra again. I move back to the beautiful flesh of your sex and stroke the tingling skin between your thighs, spreading the damp over you. I rub the lovely wetness over your bum and tease the tiny little hole with my middle finger, wanting to shock you with my lust, but you sigh again and I hear your breathing jerk, with sighs and gasps. 

Soon, another lorry is ahead of us and I pull gently out to the middle lane, trying not to let you know about it. I thrill when I see that there are three of them, in a long row. We drive toward them and this time I drive slowly. 

Soon you hear the sound of the lorry's wheels and I feel you stiffen again. 

"Relax!" I say to you, my dry throat letting the sound come as a snapped order. 

You obey me and I look ahead to the cab and see the driver glancing in his mirror as I cruise slowly alongside. He looks ahead and in a flash takes a second look as he realises that he can see us as well as the car. 

I watch him move his body so that he can see more clearly. I continue to stroke you and you give in to the sexy touch.

"I can't stand it!" you say and try to bury your face in the back of the seat.

"It's OK darling, you look beautiful!"

"Oh my God!" you moan as you sense his unseen eyes on your body. 

I forbid you to cover yourself and I also enjoy the feel of his eyes in you. After nearly a minute of this, I pull alongside the cab and he is now out of my vision but I know that he can see right down onto your sex from the cab. 

I feel you quiver at the intense thrill of his eyes and my merciless strokes. 

You cum for me very quickly and your thighs shake with the thrill. 

I let my fingers collect the ooze from you and I crudely rub it over your bum, teasing it even more, now that you are totally mine. I glance at your breasts spilling out from the tight cloth of your bra and thrill at the sight if your nipples, solid and long, screaming for attention. I rub some of your love over them and you quiver again at this new sensation. 

You lift your left arm over your face to hide yourself, but I can see that you have your eyes open and can see the back of the next lorry. 

I can see the driver already looking at us and talking on the radio.

"They are chatting on the radio darling, passing on the thrill that is coming!" I let you know. 

I drive slowly along the monster lorry and watch the driver as he follows us in the mirror. I slow down as I get beside him and allow him to get a good look at your beauty.

"Oh God!" you say once more, a mixture of horror and appreciation of the scene. 

I look at you; your eyes fixed in delight at the sight of the large lorries, sensing where the cab is in each case, safely hidden from view except your most intimate parts. We can both feel the eyes on you and we both thrill at the response of the drivers. My ears are filled with the roar of the powerful engine beside us and the continuous rush of air from the tires on the road, the muted music in the cab and the sighs of ecstatic horror from your excited throat.

Your hips however, are my allies and they move in short jerks for me, my fingers sliding along the wet length of your lovely spongy lips, from your tiny bum, all the way along to your solid and long clitoris, eager to play this sexy game. I let this guy have about a minute of your beauty before gliding smoothly ahead. 

As I pass him, and approach the other lorry, he flashes his lights. Is he flashing at me? Is it a sign of thanks? Or is he flashing the other driver, telling him it is his turn for a thrill. 

You let out a sigh, and I think that it is relief, but it is another beautiful climax. You still hide away, but you still look at the side of the next lorry. You know that I am showing you off to the drivers and that I am getting such a buzz from it, yet you cannot find any means to stop me. This totally new experience is tinged with such intensely thrilling interludes along with the natural impulse to hide yourself.

Now we are approaching the Cab of the third lorry and suddenly you hide yourself as you see the driver for yourself. He is still ahead, but from the cab he is in the ideal position to see your body. 

I see him look in the mirror, occasionally glance down from his high view, and then check the road ahead. I look ahead and it is once again all clear. I could easily zoom ahead of them now and disappear forever. I do not.. I enjoy this so much. 

I still sense your terror that these greedy eyes have feasted on your open flesh. Yet I also sense your pure delight at your anonymity, the sheer pleasure of their response, the idea that they have all been left with a swollen knob, dribbling in their pants as mine always does with you. 

Cruelly now, close to the last lorry, his eyes fully on your sex, I move my hand away and offer him your body in full. I pull the skin of your thighs and open your sex for his eyes and then move to your breasts. I feel your breathing stop totally as you realise that you are completely unprotected, completely his. But your hand on my knob tells me that you are enjoying this sensation also. I look at your sex as well and your muscles are twitching, making your lips open and close in their lust. Now, even without my touch I feel you climax. Your breathing turns into a groan again and your hips jerk ecstatically by themselves. I watch in awe at this delightful vision, your sex fully lit by the warm sun, fully exposed to two pairs of adoring eyes, and your body indulging in the most delightful sensual orgasms.

I give the driver plenty of time to fix this image forever in his mind in the hope that he can thrill to it in recollection when he is alone in a bed some nights, his tool growing as mine is, awaiting some attention. 

I move ahead now and I see him also flash his lights to me. He also waves as if we were old friends and I urge you to look back.

"Just look back babes!" I whisper to you. 

You do so and he waves at you, his light flashing. I expect you to hide in horror but you simply climb upward more and wave back. You turn now and kneel on the seat so that you can see back properly. I pull out to the third lane, which is clear and you can see all three lorries behind us.

"You are beautiful darling!" I said truthfully. "You gave me such pleasure!"

"You terrified me!" you responded and then qualified it, "At first!"

I smoothed my hand on your buttocks, sticking out to the front as you gazed back. I sped ahead now so that we can leave the drivers with their thrills. 

I smoothed over the crumpled skirt now hanging over your bottom. I am tempted to kiss you there but this is not going to be possible in the car. I watch you as you let your gaze leave the now shrunken images of the lorries. 

I look at your breasts, still hanging out of your bra, lifted by the cloth and pointing to the lowered seat-back I lift the hanging cloth of the blouse so that I can see you clearly, placing it over your back. You remain like this a happy smile on your face as you feel my eyes only on your body. You look down at your breasts at the same time and watch them as I do, lifting your left arm so that I can see clearly.

"You are beautiful; Dani babes."

"Yes! I know!" you said it sincerely, seeing you just as I do. 

We both watch as your breasts bounce gently with the smooth movement of the car, speeding over the road. In a second or two, you turn to me and kiss my cheek.

"You excite me darling" you whispered, "I forgot to film us. That was something we should be able to relive."

"Maybe we can do it again!" I said thrilling at the possibility.

"Maybe!" you whispered. 

I think about it and I realise that we could never do it that good again.

"I think it would be too contrived if we tried it again for the film!" I laughed at this.

"Darling, you have read my thoughts," I said. "It has to be unrehearsed and instant. If we did have the video, it would be brilliant, but we didn't, so let's keep it in our mind."

You kiss me again and sit back in the seat. You lift your hands to cover your breasts.

"Leave them there darling, it'll be ok. Let the sun shine on them." I said, fearing that you would cover yourself. 

You lay back snugly again and let the sun share your beauty with my eyes. You slowly, teasingly, lift your skirt and sigh as the sun warms your body with its loving touch. I can see your sex again, but this time, you keep your thighs closed but relaxed. Lovingly, you let your right arm fall on my lap. I push my hips forward to your hand. You look so happy. Laid back in luxury, your body covered and exposed.

I pulled out to pass another lorry and you do not even bother to move. This time, I am more interested in your hand on my thigh. I speed passed the lorry and do not care if he sees anything. 

You sigh again and I reach behind to roll the seat back a little. I pull my belly in and undo my jeans at the top. You recognise the invitation and turn to me, so that you can undo the zipper. My tool pushes out to you, constrained only by the thin material of my pants. I feel the air on my belly and upper thighs and it is good. My rod tingles as your fingers glide sensuously over it. 

I thrill as you curl up beside me, using your left hand to cup my tool feeling it throb and buzz in your sexy grip. 

You slide your hand, feeling the firmness of my toy and the big lumps of my balls, pushing out of the jeans for you. As if you read my thoughts, you lift the elastic top of the pants and look at the hard length of meat underneath. 

I feel the tight elastic as you feed it under my balls, so that I am exposed to your gaze and your loving caress. I can feel your fingers as they hold me, and I can sense them feeling the texture of my tool, the smoothness of the skin, a soft covering for the firmness beneath. You let your grip tighten on me, testing the hardness. It bends slightly but in a second, it bucks as the tingling increases and it jerks automatically in your grip. 

I look ahead, but I can sense a smile on your lips as you enjoy the power you have.

You move again so that you can see me clearly. I lift my hips and wiggle so that my jeans move down a little more, opening my groin to you. You help by pushing the cloth away and now you can gaze at me freely. It naturally nudges into my belly, so you pull it away, and this simply makes me tingle with the thrill of your touch. I love to feel your hands, your eyes on me like this, and I feel proud that you enjoy this also.

Now I feel your thumb slide over the tip. You have spotted the excitement ooze from my slit, clear and thick, glinting in the sun. It thrills me so much to feel your touch slippery and sexy loving, adoring this greedy tool. 

I concentrate on the road and we pass lots of cars and Lorries but this time we are alone. We are in our own world, unshared by others, private and loving. It seems that we can go on for hours like this and I never tire of your sexy hand on my rod; no intention to make me cum, but simply holding and stroking softly, teasing out the love in my belly in tiny clear dribbles. 

I glance at you secretly and see your face; eyes fixed on me and a natural smile on your lips, and your breathing slow and perfectly timed your head on your left arm for support. I see a sign telling us that we can get a break in 3 miles. I want this to go on, but I need to pee. 

I move into the left lane and slow with the traffic in this lane. 

In a minute, we drive up the slip road to the service area. I park near the back where it is quieter so that we can remain private. I do not stop you from holding me and you do not try to let me go as I park and turn off the engine. 

Without looking out of the car, to check that we are clear of people, you lift yourself over to me and bury the swollen head in your warm mouth. I thrill at this intense sensation and let you devour me with your greed. You can feel the spongy hardness of me in your teeth, which you gently clamp on me while your tongue tastes the sex coming from my balls. I know what you can feel and I allow you to do what you want with me.. Again, you do not attempt to make me cum, but you are simply feeling my body, taking in more impressions that you can share with me at a later time. I put my fingers down onto your lips and feel the stretched skin over my knob. I feel the slippery saliva that you spread over me. Every thing that I feel is stored in my head, keeping treasures, just as you are doing.




The Long Road



You suddenly move your mouth away from me and look at the glistening fat flesh in your hands. Now, with clever control, you reach behind and open the case which contains your camera and you set it up and simply start to film my twitching and bubbling tool, the best part of it all slippery and wet with saliva. Your hand comes forward and slides over it while you film single-handed. You stroke the contour, slide your tips over the dribbling end, and spread the fluid over it. I watch amazed as you lift your finger and stretch the oozing juice in the air. You move the camera around so that you can see it from many angles later. Now, you rest it on the dash and move forward again, guessing that the camera can see you. It looks good to me and I can imagine how it will look to you later. You slide the long tool into your mouth as far as you can and hold it there for the camera. I know that you cannot breathe as my large cock-head is pushed against your throat, but you let your head fall heavily onto me, wanting to impale yourself on this lovely knob. You swivel your head around sexily and I know now that you can 'see' in your head, just what you want to see on the TV when you view this with me later, in our room.

My rod tingles maddeningly in your mouth and I want to fill you with my lust. I keep still however and let you control the scene. I let out a long sexy sigh and this seems to be what you wanted. This gives you the cue to lift again, and now I hear your breathing restart. You lift your head and I feel the cool air on the wetness of my knob, great dribbles of your saliva running down to my balls and onto the seat. You move back again and at the same time, lift the camera to your eyes moving it up to my face. I can barely focus my eyes on you so great is my passion and this is caught by you on the film. I watch as you move down to my tool again and you order me to hold it for you.. This I do and enjoy the slippery wet feel of it. I also let my thumb slip over the tip feeling the goo coming from it.

"That's it darling!" you say to me, half instructing, half-encouraging. 

I realise what you want to see and start to stroke it for you.. I push my hips up so that my knob can look bigger for you. Now I feel cruder and want to stroke it properly. I look at you but all you can see is my tool through the lens. I push higher and begin to stroke it crudely, making it point toward you. I let the covering of skin slide back to reveal the deep purple-red of the swollen head. I pull it all the way back by slipping my hand down to my balls. I look at the rod, pointing up high, looking so angry and full of lust. The shape pushes through the skin and now, the veins seem to be bigger. I squeeze down to my balls so that the tool seems to stand rigid by itself. I hope it looks as large in the camera as it seems to be in my eyes! I look to you again and now you are pointing the camera at my face. I must look so lustful as my eyes cannot see clearly. You whisper encouragement to me.

"Darling Danislover, I want to see you cum for me!" 

I thrilled at your words knowing that it was being recorded as well. I concentrate on breathing and so am able to answer you.

"Darling, I am full of your lust. Are you ready?"

"Go ahead darling Danislover" you say in your beautiful eastern accent.

I look down to my tool and you follow with the camera. I push even higher with my hips and my aching and tingling prick pushes out to you. I begin to stroke it properly and you sigh at me. Your gasp is a thrill to me.

"Yes darling Danislover, do that my Danislover, do that for your beautiful Dani-babes!" 

I glide my hand over the strong hardness but it is your voice that thrills me and soon I feel the familiar jerking of my man as he loses control. The seed in my belly comes running to your call as if it were one of your pets. I feel the burning sensation in my belly as masses of mess squirts from my balls and rushes in all directions inside me, but it can only go in way now. I watch in amazement as my rod swells before our eyes, suddenly splashing my hot white love in the air. My cock explodes so violently that it is shot with force into the air, but it is so thick that it springs back again, flicked in a dancing rotating arc. It seems to hover in the air before flicking off the end of my tool and splashing onto my shirt. All this is captured by you on camera and is followed immediately by more boiling love, which also splashes, on my shirt. Now the cum spills from me with less force but copious amounts dribble down to my balls as the rod jerks in agonising ecstasy for you. I am shattered by the force of this climax and by the intense beauty of the event. But I can see in my head that you have captured a really true love moment. I know that we will have endless enjoyment from reviewing this in the future.

----------------------------------

As we leave the service area, you suddenly rush ahead of me and turn with camera to film me leaving, walking toward you. I think that you are waiting to film me with the ice cream that you insisted on buying for me. I lick it with relish for you, but I see that you are really filming the wet patch on my shirt where I tried to remove the spunk before it stained. I washed it with a wet tissue in the service toilet but the water spread over a wide area.

"That looks good darling, as I know what it is!" you say to me. 

I smile at your ingenuity, happy that you have the camera this time. You now put the camera down and wrap your arms around mine as we both enjoyed the ice cram we have. Like youths we share each other's even though we both had the same flavour. Without planning it, we walked away from the car and around the side of the service restaurant, following a path close the bushes. We see a young squirrel running around near the small clump of trees at the side of the building. You leave me and walk over to it. You force the camera into my hands as you leave and you break off some of the cornet biscuit so that you can feed the small animal. I hear you talk to it in a loving voice and I am amazed to see the creature come to you. It stops quite close to you and I start to film as you feed the cautious yet trusting forest babe. It stretches its head nervously toward your hand, but pulls away before it can get the treat. You drop it near him and he snatches it from the ground and runs away from you as if it had tricked you. You turn to me still crouched down and I love the laughing smile on your face. I continue to film and as you move to face me again, I see that you still have no panties on. I do not know if you have forgotten or if you are teasing me again.

I glance quickly behind me to see if there were any eyes on us. The building only showed some small windows and so I figured that this was the back of the area and no customers were looking at us. I look again and you smile back to me, crouched still, legs only slightly parted, enough to show me a little bit of your sexy flesh. You emphasised the pleasure you get from the ice cream but you know that I am filming your body, not your cornet. Suddenly, a piece of your cornet falls to the grass and you reach down to it. To do this you part your legs crudely and open yourself to my lenses eye. I zoom in a bit and as your sex becomes the main object in the lens, the light meter changes the exposure to compensate for the darkness under your skirt, relative to the bright grass area. I can see your sex clearly in a second as soon as the camera had finished focusing on you. I can only see up your skirt and I do not know what you are doing, but you keep this position for me. I thrill at the sight and despite the power of the climax of ten minutes ago, my cock starts to respond to your amazing teasing mind again. You start to bounce a little, only a bit but enough to make me think of you sitting on my tool like this. Now you flap your legs in small movements so that I can see you sex open and close just a little. I simply let you go ahead and film you as you do this for us both. I imagine the time in the near future when we would both sit down with the intention of enjoying the delights that we are preserving now.

I zoom out now and see that you are licking you ice cream, just like a young girl might, unaware of her immodesty. You do not see the squirrel come close to you again from behind, maybe to get some more of your biscuit. I watch through the lens as this happens happy to be able to get this also. You will love to see the small animal growing in confidence coming closer to you. As soon as you sense its presence you slam your thighs closed and gasp with startled excitement. This simply frightens the young animal and it races away from you into the small wooded area. You jump up and laugh when you realise what is happening. You break off some of your cornet and turn to follow it. I also follow you and we all enter the dryness of the little clump of trees. You stop and look for the animal but it has gone. The small wood smells of dried twigs and dead plant material. It is a healthy woody smell. Suddenly you see the squirrel as it races up the side of a large tree. You run to it but it is too late. The squirrel disappears from sight. You turn and lean against the tree, smiling and happy at the encounter, but wishing it would last a little longer.

You look at me and smile into the lens. I am still filming you and all this is pure natural Danibabes to me. I step to you again and keep the camera running as I move it away from me but facing you. I move into the frame and kiss you as you lean into the tree. I can't see the lens, but feel it on us as we kiss. I want to say that you are so beautiful to be able to attract the wild animal as you did, but I couldn't speak. I melt into you and kiss you deeply as you push yourself into the tree, you arms by your side. I don't know why I did it but I wanted to see you again and I just pulled at your blouse till the buttons gave in easily. Your breasts are still over you bra and now they are in the frame of your camera. I move down your body and as I do, you unclip your skirt and let it fall to the ground. Now you have only the short blouse on, open at the front and you are totally exposed to my lens. I move back a little and take in your lovely body. You look at me through the lens and have a loving smile on your face. 

Happy to expose yourself to my eyes and full of natural desire in this small piece of Eden that we have made our own. It is as if this is our rosegarden for a short while. I want you. That is all. I want to make love with you and feel you again, as I love to feel you. I pull at my jeans and they give way instantly. One handed, I hold the camera away from me and film my other hand tearing at my zip and pulling my tool out again for you. I step toward you as the jeans fall to my knees, my knob, heavy and growing with excitement. You look at me and wait lovingly for me to enter you. I am slightly aware of the noise of traffic near us, but we are out of sight. I rest my arm on a branch sticking out from behind you to support my camera hand. I try to set it up toward us knowing that I will not be able to concentrate in on this function in a few seconds time.

Fortunately, there is a pair of branches there and I try to balance the camera. It looks good, but I can only hope that we are both totally framed by its lens. I can't bother with this anymore. I step forward and you place your hands between us and hold my tool. It is growing and you squeeze encouragingly. I feel you lower a little as you part your legs for me. We both sense the urgency and have no time to be tender and sophisticated about it. You push your hips to mine and push my cock-head between your slippery lips for me. I need no other guidance. My knees bend so that I can point it at you properly and you hold my neck with both hands, both of us looking down to our sexes. I push into you and you gasp as I fill you with one stroke. You pull my neck close and I try to stand. I manage this but have to lift you from the ground. Back into the supporting tree, you lift your legs so that they wrap around me, fixing our bodies together. This is great, and I can make very long strokes.

"Oh God Dani babes!" I grunt at you, trying to tell you how I feel.

You moan back to me unable to speak as I am pushing you so hard into the tree. I pull my knob from you and feel the coolness of the shadowy air on me. My balls are covered with your love and the chill is so exciting. We move together perfectly. My rod filling you so much that you can only gasp. I feel your sharp clit on my pubis and the base of my rod, I know that you are thrilling at this scene.

"I love making you cum darling Dani babes. Cum for me now darling!" 

As I say this you gasp again and I feel your tight muscles gripping my knob and rippling along its length. I realise that my words excite you and I talk to you about your beautiful climaxes, which thrill me so much. All I can do is push my knob deep inside you; not that this is more pleasant for you, but I need to feel you gasp when I do this. You thighs grip my hips and you are wide open once more for me to do what I need to do. I simply love your eagerness to share our lust and our love.

In a short while, I feel my tool become totally solid as I move into a new phase of desire. I slow down so that I can stay in control and I am rewarded by a new sensation as my swollen cock-head slides within you, feeling every contour of your inner body; the lovely thrill of your sex closing itself as I withdraw, clamping on the tip of my meat as if to keep me out of you. However, this to do with your strained position and as soon as I push again, I slip past this thrilling gate. Now I can feel your intense heat as I push into you slowly, feeling the coolness of my knob being sensed by your body. The thrill of the cool skin inside you adds to your pleasure. I get an impression of what you can feel and I know that you are feeling what I am experiencing.

"I want you to lose yourself darling and cum more and more." 

I push at your pubis, knowing that your lovely long clit wants to feel me. I thrill as you gasp again in my ear.

"Come on babes. Cum cum cum!" 

I want you to faint with pleasure. I move so slowly that I get to feel every part of your sex and when I sink into you, I feel the puffed up lips of your responsive sex wrapped around my adoring knob. I feel my legs aching now and I have to stop for a little rest. I let my tool bury itself in you and try to get a balanced position. My hands slip under your buttocks so that I can lift you a little. My fingers slip between the cheeks of your bottom and I find your bum, all exposed by this crude position. You are all slippery with your own copious love juice and I cannot resist it. I let my lusty head rule and push the tips of my middle fingers of each hand slip into you here. You stiffen at the crude attack but I can feel the beautiful sensuous rippling of your nerves in response. Your tiny hole grips me, trying to stop my attack but you gasp in pleasure, another climax building again. You wrap your arms around me and lift yourself higher so that I can slip my hands under you properly. I can feel you throat close tight with the delirious ecstasy of giving yourself to me. I rotate my fingers so that I tease your bottom mercilessly. I realise that I am close to my own climax and I try to slow down but your hips push into me and I cannot stop what we are doing.

I push you back to the tree and my knob tingles with the feeling of your tightness. I let it happen and I manage to grunt that I am gong to cum. You respond by pulling me even tighter.

"Yes Danislover baby, cum inside me my darling Danislover" 

The name thrills me and I let it happen. Again, inside half an hour, my seed gushes from me in tribute to your beauty. My legs instantly collapse at the intensity of the pleasure, and we both fall down the tree. I let myself fall back and you still hold yourself tightly to me. You end up on your knees and take over the fucking motion for me.

"Cum in me my Danislover!" you say to me crudely, and the words along with your accent thrill me into heaven. 

I push my hips high and you lower onto my tower, rubbing your lips over my balls, your clit still enjoying its mastery of our bodies by sticking into the base of my knob.

You gasp as my knob swells with the delight of orgasm, stretching you and filling you with more delight. You sit heavily on me and let me fill you. My jerking cock shots so much boiling semen into your womb that you must become a mother. The hot violent seed simply impregnates your belly totally and gushes into your body as if it belonged to you. I feel close to fainting as the immense orgasm drained me. Your bottom now crushes my balls, yet this simply amplifies the pleasure I get from you. Now you stop and concentrate on the feeling of my hardness inside your sex. You rock slowly on me making the intrusion slide around stirring you up with its long reach. I feel it start to soften and take the shape of you, yet it still fills you with itself and its adoring love. I let my head fall back into the dry litter on the ground and breath in the scent of the trees and the decaying vegetation on the ground. I relax and let you ride on me, making this feeling last as long as you can. Strangely, I become aware of the camera and look up to it and see it still filming the part of the tree that we fell away from; how long ago??? I would love to have this scene on film also, but it is too late, as was the earlier session in the car that I want so much on film. The beauty is that we can film millions of erotic events together at any time; even though we might miss some beautiful ones.

We will use the camera to capture many love scenes as well some 'mundane' ones where we drink together in a pub or walk together on the moors. So many possibilities will occur in our future that will beg to be filmed for our enjoyment later. The camera is going to be a major aspect of our love life. 



The Long Road



Scotland, 1557

on the road between Perth and Whithorn

A persistent mist had given way to cloudy stillness. Lise had dropped back in the line of riders until she rode just before the hired guardsmen who brought up the rear of their party. They were traversing a lightly wooded hillside on the way to Sterling, which, for the most part, required them to ride in single file. 

Their way often took them on such paths. Swollen by Autumn rain, the glen bottoms were often too treacherous to afford safe passage, so they took paths higher up occasionally wooded slopes. 

Lise was weary, saddle sore and damp. In truth, she felt that she had not been properly dry since their departure from Perthshire, sometimes, she thought morosely, not since they left Bordeaux. 

Ahead, she could hear the voices of Margarete and Owen. They had taken to passing the long hours of their journey by trading songs. This was a fairly straight forward process for Owen, as he was fluent in French after his years with Colin in Paris. Margarete had to coach him on pronunciation, as the tunes she knew were mostly of Southern origin, but her task was nothing to Owen's.

Gamely, Margarete was attempting to learn Welsh ballads. This was largely an exercise in rote learning, and required Owen to repeat the songs, and individual phrases many times. Though a part of her resisted it, Lise felt his voice soothing her manifold discomforts. Nevertheless, she willfully chose to skulk back among the guardsmen, undesirous of companionship. The guardsmen, seeing little warmth between the women, accepted Lise as a servant like themselves and, after their initial abortive attempts to engage her, (curtly rebuffed,) left her entirely to herself. 

She still rebelled inwardly against this mad venture of Margarete's. To go on pilgrimage to pray for a child was frivolous enough she felt. To do so in late October, when the weather was dreadful, and the country in turmoil, was downright madness. As Margarete's attendant however, she had no choice but to accompany her mistress.

Since the events of Lamas night almost three months ago, all of Lise's actions were governed solely by duty. Since the shocking attack on her person, the double rape, the degradation that had come to be known by all in the castle, it seemed to Lise that her very life had ebbed.

It was not merely the devastating effects of the assault, but also the memories it evoked of long buried pain, and the reminder of her own vulnerability. The fact that the assault had occurred on the very night after she and Owen had, at long last, come together in love, was the ultimate cruelty of fate. Since that night, it seemed that the love Lise had known for both Margarete and Owen had flickered along with her spirit.

Ahead, the singing was abruptly silenced, and Lise became aware that the horses were being halted by wary riders. Looking up, she perceived little sign of alarm however, more so a sense of alert caution. 

Riding close to the head of the company, Owen and Margarete beheld the obstruction on the crude path at the same time. Some distance ahead, but directly in their line of travel, stood two deer, unmistakably doe and stag, and equally unmistakably in the postures of copulation. 

Owen shot a sideways glance at Margarete, and had to steel himself not to laugh at the wide-eyed surprise on her face. To the left, the wood was more dense, impassible for their horses. To the right, the slope became precipitous, equally impassible. Owen and the lead guardsmen agreed, with a silent look, that their only course was to remain still and wait for the conclusion. Even had they not sported several dead geese across their saddles from a few lucky bow shots that morning, none would have felt at ease dispatching the deer with arrows at such a moment. 

His amusement not withstanding, Owen edged his horse a little away from Margarete's. Both had been abstinent for longer than each preferred, and the intimacy created by music and a common purpose, gave him the sense that this was a vista they could not comfortably share. 

He glanced back to see Lise taking in the scene. When she saw that he watched her, she raised her eyebrows at him in a way he could not interpret. 

Fortunately, their approach had allowed them to perceive the obstacle soon enough to halt the horses before they could be made restive by the deer. All remained as quiet and still as possible, cautious of the stag. 

When the act had concluded, the lead guardsmen signaled for them to continue. Owen made a point to follow him quickly, allowing Margarete the opportunity to fall back, which she did. 

"You look like an ignorant villager who has just been dazzled by a cunning Magician," Lise remarked, catching sight of the look on Margarete's face."

In former days, Margarete would have been stung by Lise's acerbic tone. Now, she was so grateful for any spontaneous remark that she barely registered the sarcasm. 

"I'm sure I've seen such things before growing up," she said thoughtfully, "But it never looked quite thus to me before. I suppose it's because I have..." She broke off, unwilling to speak the words.

Lise bit back the unpleasant rejoinder that came to her lips. Something in Margarete's young face stopped her. It was the familiar, slightly vacant expression Margarete got when something had stirred her into unexpected reflection. Suddenly and startlingly, Lise was moved by tenderness. Her own bitter sarcasm suddenly seemed so at odds with the purity of Margarete's curiosity and introspection. 

"Is that how all such matters between men and women seem to you now?", Margarete asked, so gently that Lise felt no impulse towards sharp response. 

"What do you mean?", she asked, to buy time.

"So base, so animal, so lacking in tenderness, so brutish."

Lise felt a quick and devastating desire to weep. Margarete's soft, almost diffident words seemed to resonate like a shout in her head, and twisted something painful in her guts.

So much time went by that Margarete had long since ceased to expect a response, but harkened attentively when Lise spoke quietly.

"No. I know that such is not so, I know it in my head at least. In truth, it was an odd comfort to see it. I do not know why this should be; perhaps because it was so uncomplicated"

Lise's words were spoken in a softer and more vulnerable voice than Margarete had heard from her since Lammas. She looked into Lise's face and saw a similar softening.

"Did it make you miss your husband?", Lise asked with a faint but un-ironical smile.

Margarete nodded a little shyly, then asked very cautiously "Did it make you miss Owen?"

Lise's features twisted a little and her eyes slid away, and she gave a faint nod also.

Margarete was filled with relief that Lise was speaking so calmly and genuinely to her that she was afraid to say the wrong thing. Since their departure, she had felt only Lise's anger and resentment. 

"I heard the men say that we will make a shorter day of it today, the horses need rest."

They did not speak again until the vicissitudes of stopping for the night, but the silence between them was the most comfortable they had shared for many months. Each felt privately that, as discommodious as the outdoor life of traveling was, there was something restful about being outside castle walls, enfolded in the natural world. The air was still, and there was no rain. On many nights, they had found shelter in lodgings as diverse as prosperous Abbey granges and pore crofter's huts. Tonight, both women were glad to find there rest out of doors. 

At Sterling, they spent the night in the comfortable home of McNab, the business agent of Margarete's husband. In their bedroom, they spoke easily of trivial matters, comforted by unimportant words. 

"I have lost my green underskirt!", Lise exclaimed in mild frustration."

"Oh?", Margarete replied vaguely, rummaging among her own possessions.

"Yes, you know that lovely unique sea-green that we found in the market in Perth when we arrived?"

"Yes, I remember it," Margarete replied, distractedly. "You're sure you brought it?"

"Of course," Lise replied in mild irritation. McNab's house maid did a fine job with our laundry, luckily it was a windy day so all dried properly, but she must have mislaid it. I'll ask in the morning."

Margarete kept her face averted. She knew where the underskirt was. It had been carefully torn into strips which Margarete had been tying to branches around holy springs. 

The reason she had insisted on this pilgrimage was not to pray for a child. It was to pray for the renewal of Lise's spirit, for Margarete greatly feared that without intervention, Lise would sicken and die from grief. Filled alternately with anger and apathy as Lise had been, Margarete and Owen had chosen to keep the true purpose of their journey hidden from Lise, but Margarete prayed, and left tokens of green cloth, as was the custom at holy springs.

After Sterling, their way took them through low, rolling country, only partially wooded. The hill tops were home to the now familiar sheep walks, and the land was well cultivated, though nearly fully harvested by this season. Mountains stretched up off to their right. 

Lise was becoming increasingly irritated by the holy wells and springs. These were many, and Margarete rarely allowed the party to pass one without stopping so that she could perform some private devotion. Lise alternated between finding these forced stops annoying and a relief. She was eager for this mad journey to be completed, but her saddle-sore behind was glad for a chance to dismount and walk about. 

Since their departure from Sterling, Owen had begun taking these stops as opportunities to continue Lise's instruction in the Scots speech. She was not progressing as quickly as Margarete, and Owen had been charged with her on-going instruction.

It was beginning to irritate Lise that Owen should insist on turning Margarete's devotional interludes into opportunities for language lessons. The breaks from travel were scarcely long enough to make instruction worth while. Nevertheless, Owen was persistent, strolling away from the horses with her, good-naturedly correcting her pronunciation.

On a misty afternoon, Lise saw the telltale flash of colour ahead which indicated yet another hillside spring. Owen had explained early in their journey that it was the custom for pilgrims and suppliants to hang bits of cloth from branches near the spring as an offering to which ever saint was honored there. A bit of clothing or some other personal effect belonging to the ailing individual was the most common. 

If she was feeling well and did not think but merely gazed, the effect was rather festive, as many colours were represented. As their journey progressed however, she often came to see each fragment of cloth as a symbol of the suffering of some unknown and absent person, someone who might not even be on this earth any longer. Mostly though, the sight of these emblems had become merely the indication of a coming lesson in Scots. 

Predictably, Margarete drew rain, and waited for Owen to assist her in dismounting. Margarete made her solitary way up the slope to where this particular spring pored out into a pool, bordered by carefully placed stones. 

Lise sighed, finding her own careful way to the ground, and waiting for Owen's inevitable approach, which she had grown to both desire and dread.

He led them casually further along their path. A guardsman would linger to assist Margarete back into her saddle, and they would mount themselves when they saw her return. 

As Margarete reached them and all were mounted save Lise, she said that she would linger to relieve herself. Always cautious of their safety, Owen bade the most impervious of the guardsman to stay behind so that she would not be unprotected. 

Her business in the shrubbery complete, Lise doddled, savoring the brief near-solitude. She cherished time alone, and had had none since their departure from Colin's castle. The guardsman had retreated to a safe distance, and his presence was so unobtrusive that it barely registered on her consciousness. 

Unwilling to rejoin the party at once, she thought she might avail herself of a drink of water from the spring after all. She picked her way up the slope, then knelt at its edge. 

There was a small, wooden statue, of St. Bride she supposed, and flat stones which had been placed with care so as to afford a semblance of ease to those who knelt there. The water was pleasantly cool but not icy. When she had drunk her fill, she sat back, in no hurry to rise and remount. 

Her gaze swept idly around the bushes which ringed the place, noting the faded offerings, the bits of cloth that dangled from branches. Her eyes halted at one such offering. She rose slowly, her eyes fastened on it. Like a sleep-walker, she approached, reached up, and removed it to hold in her hands. She felt numb and dazed. The strip of cloth had been torn from the edge of a garment, and its colour was a rich, unique sea green. She knew that colour, had in fact been thinking of it in Sterling. She raised the fabric to her nose and inhaled. It bore the fragrance of the sashay she used to scent her clothing. 

She stood transfixed, struggling to understand. She looked slowly around at the spring with its offerings, then down again to the cloth in her hand. 

Gradually, the truth seeped into her awareness like a strong dye through wool. She looked about her once more, as though seeing her surroundings for the first time. No cloth from Margarete's clothing graced these branches; and it was not McNab's house maid who had misplaced Lise's green underskirt. It was not for the ripening of her womb that Margarete prayed. 

Lise made her careful way back down the slope and mounted her horse. With a nod to the guardsman, she proceeded along the narrow path after the others. A slow anger was kindling inside her. This outrageous journey in the cold and damp, this tramp across this sunless and wild country, was not to pray for a child. Margarete had lied to her. Dragged her unwillingly on an ill-advised venture to pray for... for... What? For Lise apparently. The presumption of it left her speechless. She, who had little use for prayer at the best of times, had been made complicit in a dangerous and uncomfortable journey, so that Margarete could intercede for her with the All Mighty. How dare she?

Lise urged her mount forward, catching sight of Owen ahead. Usually he lead the party, and she knew he lagged back in order to see her safe return. He turned at the sound of her approach. As he saw her, she raised the strip of cloth, and the fury on her face told him clearly that she understood all. He had not prepared for this moment, and did not immediately know how to respond. Seeing this, she deduced at once that their journey's purpose was known to him. 

He gestured the guardsman who had accompanied her forward to join the rest of the party. When they could speak privately, he chose the most pragmatic of statements. 

"You cannot vent your anger before all these." He indicated the train of Guardsmen and pack animals, among whom rode Margarete, ignorant of the storm gathering behind her. 

"Why not?", she hissed viciously. "Surely I have no longer any dignity left to lose? All know my shame, and likely all know that I am the lamentable object of all this piety. I have done with obedience and decorum. Of what use are they to me."

Owen felt the beginning of panic. Lise's expression was reckless in the extreme, and he spoke harshly, attempting to head off an outright confrontation.

"You may rail silently all you wish against your lot in life as servant rather than master, but on this journey, I am in command, and you will follow my instructions. I order you not to speak to Margarete for the rest of this day's ride. You will stay at the foot of the party and speak to no one of this matter."

To forestall argument, he urged his horse forward, sending the nearest guardsman to take up his post at the end of the column. He could feel her angry gaze burning into his back, and he sought to put distance between them. 

Despite her harsh words, Lise yet held her own dignity in sufficient regard not to shriek her fury to Margarete as she longed to do. She spent the rest of that day's ride seething in solitude. Taking his injunction literally however, she considered that the end of that day's travel freed her from his command. 

They had come upon a tiny collection of stone dwellings, barely a village, and Owen had negotiated a roof over the heads of the women at least, for a mild but steady rain had begun. 

As the men tended to the horses and set up their camp, Lise followed Margarete to some distance away where they would be expected to seek privacy in order to relieve themselves and make what toilet they could in a swift-flowing stream. Owen had given Margarete a low-voiced account of Lise's words to him, and she knew what was coming. 

Lise held up the strip of sea-green cloth for Margarete to see. Margarete had had all afternoon to consider her words. Mustering what composure she could, she spoke in a calm, level tone.

"I have lied to you as you have discovered. It is not to pray for a child that I have brought us on this journey, but to pray for the revitalization of your soul. Since Lamas, I have grieved and feared for you. I knew not how else to bring you fully back to... to yourself, to me. I have never lied to you before, but I knew you would not... I can not imagine my life without you, and each day you grew further away. I feared that by fasting and disinterest, you would... would leave this world entirely. Any risk seemed worth it to me, even my husband's anger or my own safety."

Wholly unmoved by this affecting speech, Lise gazed at her with an expression that was contemptuous. When she spoke, it was through gritted teeth.

"Though my honor and my choice have been taken from me, I yet retain my sense of duty. I will complete this journey with you because I must, and I will act as your servant While I must. When you are safely returned to your husband's protection however, I will consider my duty discharged. I will have done with being an obedient and powerless servant, without even command over the fate of my own soul. I made my way very well in the world before I knew you, I will do so again. I will no longer be manipulated and disposed of at your will. You have a castle full of servants to do your bidding. Once you are there again, I will consider my duty to you discharged. 

Margarete felt herself sway, and could not get her breath. It was as though she had been struck in the belly. Lise saw, enjoying the sensation of power that Margarete's fear and pain gave her. Feeling wholly in command of her fate as she had not done for a long time, she turned and made her way back to the cluster of huts that would be their resting place. 

The dwellings were minimal in space and comfort. Lise and Margarete were welcomed in the largest. They huddled around the dwelling's smoking fire along with the inhabitants. These were a married couple, two small children, and an infant. All of the children were thin, and none of them looked well. The woman had dark smudges under her eyes, and her movements were weary as she saw to their comfort as best she could, then drew her fretful babe to her breast to nurse. 

Lise thought clinically that the woman looked as though she might be again with child. Even through her own righteous anger, she knew a detached compassion. She tried to engage in polite conversation with her, but the woman's Scots was almost incomprehensible to Lise, and she looked so fatigued that Lise hadn't the heart to persist.

It was natural for Lise and Margarete to share the bed with the woman and her babes. The woman's husband had gone to find his rest with Owen and the guardsmen, Owen's trade goods having easily secured such courtesy. Lise, However, found such close proximity to Margarete intolerable. Inventing a complaint of the bowel which would require her to make frequent visits out doors, she said briefly that she would find her rest among the men.




The Long Road



Margarete tossed and turned through the worst night she had known since her mother's death. Her grand scheme had collapsed, fallen in on itself like a child's sand castle. The thought of Lise leaving her side brought breathless panic. In her unfamiliar bed, she shook with fear. A few tears escaped her burning eyes, but she was too distressed to find relief thus. In desperation, she tried to recite the rosary, but even that solace was inaccessible. Finally, she merely continued to repeat in her fevered mind, "Lady, please take this feeling away," over and over again until light finally crept into the hut and she could rise.

At Glasgow, they found refuge in the guest house of an abbey. Falling into the blessedly clean bed, Margarete wondered bleakly how much longer travelers would be able to rely on such comfortable accommodations in religious houses if the reformers had their way. 

She was weak and exhausted. Her apatite had flagged badly since the night Lise had declared her intention to leave her. Margarete slept the sleep of exhaustion each night, but woke to a thrill of panic in her belly, and found only minimal relief in movement and prayer.

As they reached Ayre at the western sea coast and turned southwest on the last leg of their journey, all noted the change in climate. Since they had begun to follow the River Clyde, the weather had moderated, growing gradually warmer. As they moved southward, Margarete noted the change in landscape also. The flora grew more lush, softer, more evocative of southern climes. The warmer, softer air was a comfort, almost familiar.

Privately, for they no longer spoke to one another, Margarete and Lise each longed for the very different sea that they'd known in France. Each went through the motions of the days, moved only by dogged determination to complete the journey. 

They were not far out of Ayre. As per her custom, Margarete rode near the head of the single file of riders and pack animals. She and Owen had given up trading tunes or telling stories to pass the time. Conversation was sparse, and the only sounds were those made by their animals, and by the occasional stream, or chirping bird. Suddenly, shockingly, came a sound which Margarete could not identify. It was a piercing yet ragged cry which she first took to be that of a wounded animal. As they drew closer to it however, she realized that it came from a human infant. Urging her horse faster, she was the first to perceive its source. A little to the side of the trail rested three people, and a more pitiful and bedraggled group Margarete had never beheld. 

The infant was clasped in the arms of a filthy, nearly emaciated young woman in dirty, threadbare clothing. Margarete could see at a glance that the woman sought to nurse her babe, but that she had no milk to give. Seated a few feat away and not looking at them was an equally thin and warn looking man. Young too, Margarete thought that, even in good health, the man would be slight and far from robust. Now, his face wore an expression of such weariness and defeat that Margarete could scarcely bare to look at him, lest the mirror of her own state undo her composure entirely. 

Neither the man nor the woman showed surprise or alarm at their approach. The eyes they raised slowly were hollow and resigned. It seemed to Margarete that they were so warn down by hunger and despair that they would have heeded very little. 

Obvious questions presented themselves, but the infant's cries superseded all for Margarete. She knelt on the ground beside the woman and peered into its pallid face. 

"I haena milk for him," the woman said the note of pain in her voice belying the near vacancy of her eyes.

Margarete gazed at the infant, aching to do something, but at a loss to know what. In desperation, she looked up at Owen who had dismounted behind her, but he gazed back blankly. 

Margarete ordered food brought and while they ate, she said "Perhaps with good food, "Your milk will come again. Have you been long without it?"

"Nae, but I dinna ken where we'll find good food after ye depart."

Margarete did not know what to say to this simple statement, so, instead, asked the questions she had earlier suppressed. 

"How came you to be in such a state? Have you no one from whom to seek aid?"

In simple words and short sentences, the woman told them. 

She came from a small village outside Glasgow. When she came to be with child by a man who could not wed her, her father cast her from their home. He was an influential man in the village, and so no other there would give her charity. She sought refuge in the nearest priory. 

She had been taken in by the sisters there, and when her time came, they helped her, being not inexperienced in such matters, and took her babe as a foundling. Moved by their generosity, and having no where else to go, the woman had sought instruction in the religious life, thinking to make a place for herself and her infant. Unfortunately for her, the great tide of change reached even her remote refuge. 

The Kirk had been denuded of all Popish ornament, and the inhabitants of the priory turned out to make what way they could in the secular world. Most had had family or connections elsewhere, and had taken their various paths. Lost and without hope, she had befriended the young man who now accompanied her. 

As with herself, the refuge he had thought to find in the religious life had been snatched out from under him by the great changes sweeping the country. He too was estranged from his family, (for reasons which were not immediately apparent,) and had nowhere to go. Though patently ill equipped to do so, he had tried bravely to take the woman and her babe under his protection. 

They had agreed to travel together posing as husband and wife. Scraping together their meager resources, they had purposed to travel to the sea coast, and take passage to Ireland, where they hoped to find sanctuary in the religious houses of a country whose loyalty to Rome would not waver. The guileless young man had bargained for their passage, and given all of their money to an unscrupulous harbor-dweller. When they went to the pre-arranged place to board his vessel, they discovered his duplicity. He was gone, with all their pitiful resources. With no other idea for their future, they had begun walking towards Whithorn. Not knowing what else to do, they had decided to entrust themselves to God, and the saints who were revered at the renowned pilgrimage site. 

A long silence followed this tragic tale. Margarete's eyes were round with pity and dismay.

"We've nae had food for so long that I could walk nae further," the woman finished simply. "Wee Robert was fretting so! We stopped here and I tried to feed him, but I had nae milk left."

The woman, whose name was Anne, let her eyes rest on her sleeping child, and was silent. Margarete's gaze drifted to Kenneth, the man who had been posing as Anne's husband and Colin's father. His expression was defeated. Margarete knew a private disapproval that he had been unable to provide for this vulnerable woman and her child, but pity kept this feeling from showing on her face. Indeed, as she looked from one to another of this sorry group, it seemed to her that they were all children. The man and woman were very young, and looked wholly unequal to caring for themselves, to say nothing of a baby. 

Kneeling there in the dirt and leaves, Margarete was suddenly conscious of her own youth. She wondered how old the pair was, but decided it was irrelevant. She was Lady of a prosperous castle with a strong and capable husband, and many servants. She had never known a day of hunger in her life, nor wanted for any comfort. These two young people were alone, adrift in a dangerous world, patently ill equipped to fend for themselves or the infant. 

"God has heard your prayers," she said, laying a hand on the woman's arm. "Remain here, I will be back presently."

She rose and went to where Owen waited, beckoning him away from the guardsmen to where they could speak privately.

"We must take these three with us. Can they ride on two of the pack horses?"

Owen's eyes snapped wide at her words.

"What do you mean take them with us?"

"What more simple words can I use?" 

"You mean we will see them safe to Whithorn."

Margarete frowned. She was feeling her way, and, despite her tone of authority, she hadn't really thought further than seeing this pitiful trio well fed and safely mounted, carried away from their desperate plight. 

"I mean we will take them to Whithorn, then back home with us."

"Owen's generally easy-going expression was frankly skeptical. 

"That is a rash plan. You know nothing of them, and Colin will hardly welcome religious refugees, Papists, when he has gone to such lengths to make his allegiance to the reformers clear. If your heart moves you to do so, give them some silver from the purse we carry. They can purchase passage to Ireland as they intended."

"It is nearly Sowane. We are committed to reach Whithorn by that day. I will not delay to see them Safely back to Ayre, and I will not send them there alone. Even on our return, I like not to leave them to such a voyage alone. What might happen to them upon reaching Ireland. There's was a plan born of childish desperation. Anyone can see that they are incapable of tending to their own safety. If I can see that, surely any unscrupulous person will spot them likewise. They have suffered enough. I will take them under my protection."

Owen's voice was hard with frustration. "And what of Colin when you return with three penniless suppliants, and Papist's no less?"

Margarete gave a short, exasperated sigh and said with some heat, "That will be for me to deal with. I have made my decision and will not debate it with you. See to the rearrangement of the goods so that they might ride with us."

She turned on her heel and strode away from him back to the pitiful group on the ground. She knelt once more at Anne's side. Laying her hand again on the woman's arm, and including Kenneth with her glance, she said kindly but firmly, "You will all ride with us. Owen, our company's leader, is rearranging the disposition of our goods on the pack horses so that two mounts will be ready for you. You will ride with us to Whithorn, then accompany us back to the home of my husband, the Lord Colin McLean in Perthshire. There, dwelling and protection will be provided for you, and work will be found that is suited to your abilities. Your trials have ended. All will be well."

Despite her lack of certainty on this point, it pleased Margarete to speak these words, to make a decision that would so profoundly affect the lives of others, that would dispel the look of hopelessness on Anne's face. Indeed, Anne's relief and gratitude were so deep that Margarete found them a little overwhelming. The woman burst into tears and told Margarete that she was surely sent by God in answer to Anne's prayers. While this distinction was disorienting for Margarete, Anne's words gave her an abashed but unmistakable feeling of satisfaction and pleasure. Hopeless though she had felt for days, still, she yet possessed the ability to alleviate the suffering of these three unfortunates; to change their lives. 

At Whithorn, Margarete chose to bypass the famous Candida Casa, the place sacred to St. Ninnian. Instead, taking the advise of Anne and Kenneth, she sought out the Kirk of St. Medan, who was honored on Sowane. 

Dissembling no longer being required, Margarete did not try to convince Anne that it was for a fruitful womb that she had embarked on this pilgrimage. Though not specific, she told the young woman that healing was its intent. Anne told her of the great healing powers of St. Medan, of how the waters from her sacred spring had brought balm to many. Anne spoke with reverence and confidence, overlaid with a humble veneration she was rapidly developing for Margarete herself.

They left their horses near the brow of a broad hill which descended towards St Medan's Kirk. Margarete told the party that all could remain there and wait for her. Only those who wished to offer prayer should descend. 

Margarete, Anne and Kenneth began a slow walk along the path that wound its way down the hill into the secluded spot where the old Kirk lay. Margarete was not unduly surprised that Owen, and a few of the guardsmen also left the cluster of horses. She was vastly surprised, however, to see Lise following last. 

Lise had been quiet, but attentive to Anne and her babe since the trio had joined there company. Though she continued to be silent towards Margarete, Owen privately thought that her posture spoke much less of anger. 

Pacing slowly down the hill, one in a quiet procession of pilgrims, Margarete sought to focus her mind on her petitions. She quieted her inner doubts, and thought only of Lise's peace of spirit, of Colin's safety and success. 

Along with many others, she knelt for a long time inside the Kirk. When she emerged, Anne at her side, she saw that Lise was moving slowly, almost meditatively around outside. 

Anne drew Margarete to the holy spring. She knelt at its verge, crossed herself, cupped her hands, and drank reverently of the water. She looked past Margarete, beckoning Lise with her eyes. Astonished, Margarete saw that Lise came, seemingly without reluctance. Margarete cupped her own hands, and drank also. As Lise joined them almost diffidently, Margarete cupped water in her hands once more, holding them out to Lise. As though they had done this before, Lise held out her own hands, and Margarete poured the water into them. Lise brought her hands to her lips and drank. Mutely, Lise bent her head, and Margarete, again with that sense of actions performed before, collected more water in her hands and poured it delicately over Lise's bent head. When Lise lifted her head, their eyes met, and each saw that the other wept. They knelt there together for a long time, not speaking aloud. When they rose, Margarete and Lise looked away from one another and did not touch, but walked close together back up the hill.

Pacing slowly around outside the Kirk while Margarete prayed inside, Lise had been remembering her life before Margarete had become its centre. Their encounter with Anne, Kenneth and the infant had brought those years irresistibly to her awareness.

Though she often nostalgised what she liked to think of as the days of her freedom, the pitiful sight of Anne sitting on the dirty ground with a hungry baby had brought back the rest of it to Lise. 

Unlike Margarete, she had known hunger and want. Though filled with novelty and adventure, her life had often been a precarious one. She had seen hunger and death by illness, mothers unable to provide for their babes, folk turned out with no refuge. 

During the miles between Ayre and Whithorn, she had been taking an honest account of Margarete's impact on her life. It had been a long time since she'd had to wonder where her next meal would come from, or whether she would have a roof over her head that night. Seeing Margarete kneeling beside Anne, offering her solace and safety, Lise had been jolted by the memory of a younger, but no less determined Margarete, bravely asserting herself in order that Lise should be spared the dangers of life alone. Margarete could have left her to cope with the consequences of their tumultuous meeting, but she had not done so. Though young, she had brought determination and cunning to bear on the situation. As Margarete had impetuously rescued these three, so she had once rescued Lise, proffering not merely safety and security, but also years of love and devotion. 

Walking slowly around the tranquil setting of St. Medan's Kirk, Lise finally set her anger aside, and took an honest toll of her life. Images of their journey came to her, the exhausted, overburdened woman in the stone cottage who was most likely once more with child; the wily and hungry street urchins of Glasgow, the uncertain worried faces of the monks and nuns at the religious house where they had stayed, McNab's comfortable sitting room in Sterling. All of these images haunted her as she watched Margarete emerge from the Kirk, Anne trailing behind her. 

Lise was so accustomed to seeing Margarete, and lately so disinclined to see her, that she thought she had forgotten how beautiful Margarete truly was. Her carriage was flawless, her movements graceful, her eyes large and kind. 

All of this long and arduous journey had been undertaken by Margarete for Lise's benefit. If deception and high-handedness had been employed, had they not been all for the purpose of bringing Lise back to the realm of those who truly lived?

Lise suddenly saw herself as petty and ungrateful. How many in this world could claim such a loyal and devoted companion whose love had never flagged. Much had been taken from her at Lamas, and before then too, but so much remained to her also. 

As they reached the top of the Hill, Owen appeared, having taken a different path. He had sought the Kirk of St. Modron, being more familiar with her from his youth in Wales. 

As he reached them, his shrewd eye saw clearly that things were not as they had been. As he reached them, Lise reached out a tentative hand and touched his arm. She did not speak or take his hand, but the touch, tentative and wordless, was eloquent. 

The ride back to Ayre was very quiet. The peace of the Kirk of St. Meden stayed with them as they rode and, each for their own reasons, knew gratitude.

They paused in Ayre so that suitable clothing could be purchased for Anne and Kenneth, and so that all could know a solid night's rest in a good bed before beginning the journey to Perthshire.

As per propriety, and their custom, Margarete and Lise shared a chamber at the comfortable inn. Since Whithorn, the silence between them had shifted from one of resentment and fear, to one of shyness and diffidence. Margarete longed for it to end, but knew that it was for Lise to speak.

Upholding the fiction of Anne and Kenneth's marriage, Margarete had arranged that they and the babe should be provided with a small room at the top of the spacious building. Ensuring that all was well there, meant that she entered her own chamber somewhat after Lise. Lise had made her own preparations for sleep, grateful for the brief solitude. When Margarete entered, Lise began to help her to undress in the old way.

While on the road, these ministrations had been first irrelevant, then patently ignored. As Lise's indifference had turned to hostility, she had abandoned the subtle aspects of her role as Attendant. Now, in an increasingly awkward silence, she resumed them.

When she picked up Margarete's hair brush and began gently to brush out Margarete's long hair, the younger woman felt her composure begin to dissolve, and the silence between them became intolerable. The strokes were soothing, incredibly comforting, yet she could not close her eyes and relax as she used to do. Reluctant but feeling impelled, she shifted restlessly under Lise's hands and turned to face her.

They were standing very close together. Lise held out her hands, and Margarete placed her own wordlessly in them. Lise took breath to speak several times, but could not. Margarete squeezed her hands not in encouragement or reassurance, but with the tension of lingering fear. When Lise finally spoke, her words punctuated by many pauses, it was in a low, hoarse voice that stirred many memories in Margarete.

"I have come to regret the words I spoke to you in anger on the road after Sterling. I do not like to be deceived, but when I weigh your deception against all you have given me, all you are to me, I cannot hold onto my anger. You risked much for my sake; I know it; Owen also. Had it not been for your love and care since Lamas," her voice cracked slightly, "I know not whether I would still be alive. Because I could not see what I had yet to live for, you risked this journey and your husband's anger in order to show me. How could I not forgive you? 




The Long Road



Indeed, I ask you to forgive me. I swore at Dunkeld, on the way to your wedding, that I would never leave your side, and I sought to break that oath. Even then... Even as I sought to leave you, I had no clear idea other than that I wished to wound you as I felt wounded. I am sorry. If you still value my loyalty, I offer it to you once more. My place is with you, not because I have no other, but because that is my choice." 

Composure fled Margarete utterly. Finding the release of emotion that she had not known in the pore cottage on the night when Lise had declared her intention to leave her, Margarete now flung herself into Lise's arms and wept with racking sobs. She tried to muffle their sound against Lise's shoulder, but made no effort to stop. 

Lise guided her to the bed and they lay down together while Margarete shook and sobbed away the days of panic, fear and grief. When at last she was quiet, they lay together for a long time, their silence now transmuted into one of rediscovery. They lay in a close embrace as they had not done for a long time. The feel of one another was familiar and new at once. They felt shy and careful of one another, but eager for the known solace of being so closely together. 

After a long wordless time, they each felt the quality of their touch shift towards sensuality. Margarete knew a deep longing for their former physical intimacy, but was aware of great caution. The events of Lamas night lay between them, and again, she felt that it was for Lise to bridge the void between that night and this. 

Lise pressed herself against Margarete with an almost shy eagerness that was disorienting to Margarete. It was as though Lise were inexperienced.

With great tenderness, Margarete kissed her lips, then pulled a little away.

"How is it with you? We have not been together thus since before Lamas. Of course I am a woman, but does it... Is it disturbing for me to touch you in this way?"

"No. I feel fragile, like fine blown glass, as though I do not know myself as I used to, but I have missed lying with you so much more than I knew. I think that if we go slowly, all will be well."

Margarete bent once more and placed her lips again on Lise's lips. At first, it was merely a resting of flesh on flesh, no more. Very very slowly, as though their bodies remembered, a gentle pressure was born, the delicate pull that holds a drop of water to a leaf, the fine tension that keeps a dragonfly from breaking the surface of a still pond.

By instinct, Margarete did not try to touch Lise anywhere else while they kissed. She sensed the fragility of Lise's response, and knew that she must move carefully, deliberately, not giving Lise too many sensations to experience at once. 

She pulled her lips slightly apart and stroked Lise's cheek softly, then laid her lips unhurriedly on cheeks, brow, hair, throat. Cautious but committed, she kissed the place above Lise's collar bone which always before had so stimulated Lise. With an immense inner sigh of relief, Margarete heard Lise's breath catch in her throat, felt her body arch slightly in response. 

Margarete gave a small sigh of gratification. She was thinking how both Lise and her own husband had each, in their own way, guided her from ignorance into passion. It had never occurred to Margarete that she would ever do the same for another, but, touching Lise with such care and caution, she felt a disorienting sense of being the older and more experienced.

She lay on her side facing Lise, who remained on her back. Margarete ran a slow hand down Lise's body, avoiding the sensitive skin of areole and nipple, caressing instead ribs, belly, flank. She pressed herself against Lise with restrained eagerness. She yearned for their former, uninhibited frolicking, but felt Lise to be a beautiful bird who would take flight at any incautious move.

Lise turned slowly to face Margarete, seeking her lips once more. The kiss was deeper this time, the pulling reaching further into each of them. Margarete gave a breathy moan of longing and pleasure, not shy to show Lise her desire and enjoyment.

With a wholly unprecedented tentativeness, Lise let her hands move on Margarete's skin, wondering anew at the younger woman's beauty, the soft breasts, the graceful legs, and delicious symmetry, the long soft hair. 

Emboldened by Lise's actions, Margarete ran her hands more firmly down Lise's back to caress her hips and muscular thighs. Still, she was careful. She made no sudden movements, no rapid changes in her position. Senses at peek receptivity, she was alert to each movement Lise made, each subtle clue to her responses. 

"Oh I have missed lying with you!" Margarete exclaimed hoarsely. "You are so beautiful and strong, so exciting to me. I missed your scent, the way your body feels under my hands, the way your hands feel when you touch me."

"I did not know it," Lise replied huskily, "But I missed lying with you also. Your body is so sweet and graceful, and the sounds you make in pleasure are sweeter than any music."

She lifted Margarete's heavy hair and draped it over them like a cloak.

"Sweep your hair across my body as you used to do," she implored.

Margarete knelt over her and took her hair in her hands. Carefully, she spread it over Lise's shoulders, then fanned it out and downwards so that it swept across Lise's breasts, belly, vulva and thighs. 

They had been physically intimate for almost the entire span of their friendship. Yet, until this night, they had never approached one another with such tenderness. The passion which had been there from the beginning was still strong, but this night, it was tempered by great care and great emotion. 

It was as though this were their first such experience together, although much more tentative and cautious than their true first time together had been. Margarete experienced Lise as far more passive and sensitive. Lise experienced Margarete as far more poised and restrained. 

Up and down Margarete swept the gleaming mass of her hair until Lise sighed deeply, reaching her hands to run them through the fine strands.

Less cautious now, Margarete began to replace the mass of hair with her face and lips. She brushed her cheek across Lise's full breasts, not yet allowing herself to touch the dark nipples. She brushed her lips across Lise's warm belly, but would not yet allow herself to kiss the beloved flesh. Brushing her hair once more over Lise's vulva, she let her hand follow it, cushioned by the heavy mass of hair, but pressing gently. Lise sighed again, but more longingly. 

Margarete moved upward to kiss Lise's lips. This time, the kiss was far less restrained. Their lips demanded and entreated, their tongues met and played. 

Margarete rolled onto her side again and pulled Lise gently to face her. Despite Lise's obvious response, Margarete was highly sensitized to subtleties, and did not wish for Lise to be too passive, supine only to the acts of another. 

Their lips met and clung again, barely moving, but intensely together. Lise's hand moved down Margarete's side, thrilling to the familiar but infinitely exciting shape of her waist, her hip, her soft thigh. She gently urged Margarete's legs apart and sought the centre of Margarete's pleasure, finding a hot moisture that somehow surprised her.

In the past months, Lise had become so strange to herself that it was startling to find that Margarete could still respond to her as she always had. Moving her fingers with practiced skill, she knew a bone deep satisfaction that this thing between them was still as real and compelling as it had been since their meeting. 

Her own caution and uncertainty momentarily forgotten in the remembered and anticipated thrill of bringing the peek of pleasure to Margarete, Lise moved with increasing confidence. She pushed Margarete gently onto her back, found Margarete's soft breast with her lips, and moved her fingers inexorably between Margarete's legs. Margarete's soft cries of delight brought more healing to Lise's spirit than any words spoken between them. She moved with an inexorable rhythm to which Margarete had always responded. She knew how to bring the younger woman to ecstasy, and she did so with wonder and a unique kind of fulfillment.

When the spasms had subsided and she would have drawn her hand slowly away, Margarete grasped her wrist to hold her there. 

"Again please," she begged hoarsely, and Lise obliged.

After two more peeks rocked her, Margarete fell back replete, but almost at once, she rolled towards Lise, saying through panting breaths, "I am sorry! I meant to be so careful, to look only to your ease and pleasure. I... I forgot myself and wanted... Oh Lise, I did not mean to..."

Lise laughed softly, stopping Margarete's words with a kiss. 

"Do not worry, for I forgot myself also. It was well. In your pleasure, I forgot my... my caution and uncertainty."

Margarete began once more to caress Lise, eager to bring her to release also. Lise enjoyed the touch deeply, but felt little impulse towards the peeks of pleasure that Margarete had experienced. She was well accustomed to sharing these with Margarete, but felt that she had experienced enough strong sensation. She invited Margarete to touch her softly between her legs, but gave no signs of urgency or immediacy. 

After a time, the caress became more and more languorous, and Lise sighed with contentment. It was not the contentment she was used to feeling after roused passion, but it was right. 

Even so, Margarete was troubled, but Lise reassured her and counseled patience. 

"All cannot happen at once," she said with unexpected contentment. "It is like recovering from a wound. You must walk slowly and carefully at the beginning."

Margarete laid her head on Lise's shoulder, inexpressibly comforted to hear Lise speak so. That tone of calm confidence was one she had not heard since Lamas. 

After along comfortable silence, Lise said, "I must speak with Owen. He risked as much as you in order to accompany us. I owe him my gratitude also. Will you help see to it that we are provided some privacy in the next days?"

"I will." There was another silence. "Your gratitude will be welcome I'm certain, but there's more he wishes from you. Difficult as these months have been for you and I, they have been hard for him also."

"I know. Do you know what he said to me? He told me that if I found myself with child, he would not think to question whether he was the father, but that he would wed me gladly."

Margarete caught her breath. "Oh Lise! What did you say to him?"

"I told him that such a thing was vanishingly unlikely, and that he should look elsewhere for a proper bride. Like you, he has offered me not but patience and care, and I have rewarded him no better than I have you. Somehow, all the events of Lamas got tumbled together in my mind. The freedom I knew with him that day somehow became linked with the carelessness that allowed me to be caught off my guard. I am slowly becoming able to separate events into their proper places, but I fear that it may take me longer to... to rediscover myself with Owen than it will take me with you."

"All cannot happen at once," Margarete said softly, giving Lise back her words with gentleness, "Be patient."



The Long Road



This story is completely true. I am writing it because I have enjoyed many other authors on this site and to offer encouragement to those who also seek fulfillment of their fantasies. 

*

My fantasy began when I was in college. My girlfriend at the time came into my bedroom and apologized for drunkenly fucking her old boyfriend in the parking lot of a local bar. I was enraged! How could I possibly stay with her? I yelled and she cried. I undressed her and without even kissing her, sunk my dick into her still wet and sloppy pussy. 

She sobbed "You don't want to fuck me after he just came in me." 

But the fact was that I was totally turned on and asked questions about if she had sucked his dick. 

"I don't remember." She sobbed.

I came quickly.

After college I met my future wife Terri. She was dark brunette with small tits, great ass, big hard nipples and a sweet hairy pussy. We fucked all the time. I started asking about her sexual past and quickly learned that she had many one night stands, multiple boyfriends and started fucking when she was very young. The fact that she was a complete slut had turned me on more than she would understand.

We married and did the usual things like having kids and a house and all that went with it. I traveled a lot for work and would pick up the occasional girl at a bar to fuck. My sex life with my wife waned to once a month when she was horny. I could have pressed for more sex but I liked it better when she was super horny. I would often prod her into telling me different stories about her sexual past. I loved them and would always masturbate to the story for days afterward. She always came quickly when we talked about other guys fucking her. She would cum as soon as I talked about guy's cuming inside her pussy. 

As the years passed I became more obsessed with having her fuck other guys. She would at times say that it turned her on and at other times she protested that all I wanted was a slut wife. I talked to her about swinging or something along those lines. She seemed turned on but would never commit to it. 

She seemed worried about meeting a guy online. So I decided to take the matters in my own hands. I secretly joined an online swinger club and found a guy named Tim, who played tennis (which my wife loves). I arranged for him to email her and say that he had seen her at the courts and got her email from the club owners. 

She forwarded his email to me.

"Look I have a secret admirer!" She emailed.

I encouraged her to reply to him.

She replied "Ok, but remember it's your idea." 

If she only knew how much it was my idea! I would get her emails forwarded to me from my Tim. I would coach him on what to say. He would talk about how great her ass was and continually try to get her to meet him. 

In one email she said she would meet him, "but not to expect sex right away because I want to get to know you first." 

I was shocked and thrilled my wife was going to embrace her sultriness. My plan was going perfectly. I arranged for my wife and I to go out to dinner and for my Tim to wait at his apartment for us to come by. I told her the story about how I had set the whole thing up with expectations that we would go together and I could watch her get fucked hard.

How wrong I was! Her reaction was very strong, "How could you do such a thing? I am so embarrassed! I am not your prostitute! Take me home!"

Over the next couple of days I calmed her down and she eventually agreed to meet him at the mall. I was hoping things might take off after all. But when she returned she said he was not her type and was not going to meet him again. I was crushed but noticed that she still was acting secretive. I was able to hack onto her email and saw that she was still talking with him secretly. 

Now I was mad. Mad at myself and her. I had set the whole thing up and she was not sharing anything with me. Tim continued to pursue her with gusto. I was racked with strong jealousy that she would do anything and keep me out of even though she knew how much it would turn me on. She was going to get fucked and keep it secret from me to get back at me for embarrassing her.

I was scheduled to go out of town the next Monday and in one email she had agreed to meet him for tennis "Once I left out of town."

I had had enough. I blew up that she had lied to me and was planning on fucking the guy. She relented and said she would not see him and I emailed Tim to make a not to veiled threat that I was not happy with him going behind my back. I know, complicated. I continued to monitor her email until I was sure that there were no more secretive contacts.

Years passed and we continued to talk about her having sex with other guys. At times she was into it but afterwards she would be mad about making her into a whore every time we had sex. 

"What about that guy you tried to hook me up with? You stopped it as soon as your found out we were going to have sex." She said. That was the first time she admitted that she was going to fuck him. 

I reassured her, "Look I am ok with it as long as I know."

"It's just not a turn on if you were to know."

A few months passed and then I noticed she was always turning off her computer when she left the house which was a change. I looked and she had also changed her email password. So then I started searching her browser history and noticed some things that were a little odd. They included web sites dealing with men cheating, men cheating while their wives were pregnant, chances of pregnancy when reaching menopause plus another on conceptive sponges. I knew something was up but I couldn't say for sure what was going on. 

One night after tennis at the club she said, "You know Steve at the club? His wife is 41 and just got pregnant." 

We continued to talk about different things but somehow no bells were going off. 

On Sunday before I left on a business trip she had played in a foursome that included Steve. Afterwards, they sat in the stands and watched me finish my match. As I walked up I noticed she was sitting with one leg up so that her panties showed just a little. 

"I am going home to mow the grass." I told her. 

"I am going to stay here and massage my sore calf." She replied.

That was unusual! I rushed home and got back on her web browser. That's when I saw another search on where to buy the conceptive sponges. I have had a vasectomy so then I knew for sure something was up. I continued to search and more pages were visited about husbands who cheat on their pregnant wives. It hit me like a brick. She was keeping secrets again and this time it was close to happening. 

The following week I kept tabs on her and searched for the sponges in her purse. I needed some kind of proof. That weekend I blew up at her. 

"I know everything! I know you are fucking Steve behind my back." 

I wasn't sure but was merely bluffing. I went through the list of evidence I had gathered.

After calming down some she said, "I am not fucking him. I just like the attention."

"What about the sponges?"

"I haven't bought them yet!"

Once we got home she emailed Steve and asked him to stop emailing her and that we were going to therapy. How had I screwed up my fantasy again? I resigned myself that maybe I was just too jealous to handle it. 

I searched my feeling and I thought if I was told everything I would be ok. We talked and decided to tell each other the truth and only the truth. 

She confessed, "I miss Steve's advances."

"You can have sex with him as long as you tell me everything." I said.

"Really? What about when you see him at the club. Won't it be hard knowing we have been making out and everything?"

"No. I have just one request. Can I have sex with you when you return?"

"Sure. It will be your dream come true."

"Yes it will." I said as I high-fived her.

She emailed him and said that she was not going to therapy and he could email her again.

He wasted little time and I continued to read her hacked emails that she did not know about.

"I am glad you are not on lockdown." He replied. 

"Ha! I'm back to friends with benefits status!"

"Come by and visit today."

"I was hoping you would ask! I have a haircut appt. at 11 so I could get there at 12:30ish? Good?"

I walked into the bathroom as she was getting ready and she told me she was going to see him at his office. 

"What are you going to wear?" I asked.

She hesitantly replied, "I am going to wear this top and a blue jean skirt." 

"That would be good. Go without panties."

"I can't do that!" She protested.

She looked great as she was getting ready to leave. I wanted to raise up her skirt but I knew I would find out soon enough if she had taken my advice.

I paced the floor looking at the clock. I couldn't eat lunch knowing she was arriving about 12:30. Time passed slowly until she arrived back home.

I walked into the bed room and she followed me. I started stripping off my cloths to reveal that I was completely hard. She laughed and started to lower the blinds. "Well its official!" she said.

"Tell me everything!" I implored. I hoped she would not be shy and tell me all the details.

"I think it was the lack of panties that did it." She laughed.

I was so turned on. "You went panty less?" 

"Yep. I took them off in the car." She giggled.

She smiled like a little girl. She was so excited and happy.

"I was so nervous. I was shaking when I went into his office. We talked for a while and I calmed down. He asked me if I wanted to kiss him. I said sure! He came over and we started kissing. He asked me to touch him so I rubbed his cock through his pants." She confessed.

I asked the question I was dying to know. "Is he big?" 

She hesitated not sure of my reaction. "Yes. Very nice." 

I wanted to know more but didn't want to slow her down. "What happened next?"

"He was sitting across from me and raised my skirt up and started fingering me. He wanted to watch me play with myself and then he pulled out his cock and started jerking it. I thought I might just watch him jerk off. I wasn't sure he would actually do it." She said.

"But we continued to kiss and he raised my skirt to play with my ass. Then he picked me up and put me on his desk. He stuck it in." She said.

I was so turned on. "Did he fuck you fast?"

"Yes he was fast and furious and I didn't cum."

"Did he come inside you?"

"Yes."

I kissed her and laid her on the bed. "Do you want to fuck me?" She said.

"I want to fuck you so bad." I replied.

"Well fuck me then."

"Are you horny?"

"I want to cum."

I slid a finger inside her and felt how wet she was from his cum. I got on top and slid my dick inside her wet and used pussy. It felt wet and different. Not as sloppy and stretched out as I expected but his big cock had violated her pussy.

It was all I could do not to cum right away. "How big is he? 8 inches or so?"

"Yea probably." She said.

"That's the biggest dick you have ever had?"

"Yes. I liked it. I liked it a lot."

"Did you suck him?"

"No I just stroked him and kissed it. Do you like fucking me after I have just been fucked?"

I came with those words. I was so turned on I kept my hard and continued to fuck her until she came.

"You're so wet with all that cum inside you. Are you going to see him again?"

"Yes. If it's alright with you."

"Yes it's ok with me. Get him to get a motel room next time so you can get naked and he can really fuck you good and you can cum with his dick inside you."

"I'll work on that." She said.