1 comments/ 8583 views/ 4 favorites The Evolution of Sex Pt. 01 By: Monsoon6391 This story is Part 1 of its series. It follows the lives of a young married couple in 1813. I chose this era because I wanted to explore the evolution of marital sex in a time where many women were forced to marry a stranger. I wanted to recreate how two people could come together and slowly begin to know each other, inside and out. This series is not meant to be completely historically accurate; some lingual anachronisms may occur. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ "Do you, John Edward George Alexander Randall, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife..." The reverend's voice faded from my ears as I stared resolutely through my long lace veil, trying hard to focus on anything but my new husband. I had not wanted to marry John, but he was the son of the Duke of Suffolk, and both of my parents agreed it was a perfect match for their eldest daughter. How could I argue with two doting parents convinced that they were giving me the best? In a sense, they were. I would never want for anything—not that I would have otherwise—and I would be immensely wealthy. The price of my felicity was, however, being handed over to a complete stranger. I felt tears prick the back of my eyes, and I blinked ferociously, trying to dispel the treacherous drops before they could escape. I didn't think I'd be able to pass them off as tears of joy. The minister's voice floated back into my ears. "Do you, Eleanor Isabel Brandon, take this man..." When he had finished, I took a deep breath and said the words that would bind me to this stranger for the rest of my life. "I do." My hands clenched convulsively around his, and I sucked in a huge breath of air. For the rest of my life. For as long as we both shall live. Forever. With a stranger. He must have felt the same—I saw his knuckles turning white from holding my hands so hard. He was crushing the delicate bones of my fingers, but I didn't care. It seemed as though we both needed an anchor, something solid to hold onto, some sort of slight connection that might guide us toward a semblance of happiness. He lifted my veil, and kissed my brow so gently I almost didn't feel it. Quietly, so only I could hear, he whispered, "Smile. For now, we both must smile." +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Our wedding celebration passed in a sickening blur, far too fast for my liking. I was dreading its end, when I would be handed off into the care of my new husband for our first night together. I knew what I had to do, what was expected of me. I laughed into my goblet at the thought of my mother's kind advice: "Lie back and think of England." Yes, Eleanor. Think of all the strong sons you'll bear him. Your husband. This stranger. I was suddenly very, very nervous. Before I knew it, I was being escorted to the bridal chamber by a rather bad tempered maid. She, however, seemed mildly sympathetic to my plight, and when we entered the room she closed the door and locked it behind us. "Now, lass, sit ye down. We shall fix ye up in no time, and dinna fash about what's to come. What's done is done." I let out my breath in a long sigh, and let her guide me to a plush chair in front of a dainty vanity. Her broad Scots accent reminded me forcefully of my own chambermaid in Ellesmere, and I felt farther from home than ever. I let her brush my hair, undress me, and slip a soft satin nightrail over my head. I watched her turn back the bedclothes and fluff the pillows, my sense of foreboding deepening with every move she made. After endless small preparations and bustling about, she walked up to me and gave me a huge hug. "Good luck to ye, lass." She flashed me a sweet smile, surprising on such a dour face, and was gone. Before I had time to think, the door opened again, and my new husband entered. I stood in the middle of the room, staring dumbly at him, shivering slightly in my thin nightrail. It was drafty in the big chamber, and I could feel my nipples rise against the satin. I crossed my arms hastily over my breasts and lowered my chin defensively. "Are you cold?" he asked, only a slight quaver in his voice. I nodded, stood for a moment longer, and then walked quickly to the bed. I sat down hard on the down mattress and met his eyes again, daring him to come closer. He didn't—instead, he proceeded to undress, folding his clothes neatly and setting them on the window seat. Finally, he straightened up and stared back, clad only in his long linen shirt. He was cold too; I could see, with that acute awareness that comes with fear, the gold hairs on his legs stand up. John was beautiful, that much I could not deny. He had a finely chiseled, aristocratic face. Strong chin, striking blue eyes, nose straight as a knife's edge. His lips were full and expressive, turned down now with unease. He had golden brown hair that many women would kill for. All this I took in, and it still did not make me less afraid. Quite suddenly, John crossed the room and sat down on the other side of the bed, mirroring me. Tired of the awkwardness, I huffed and swung my legs into the bed. I pulled the quilts up to my chin and rolled onto my side to face him. "Well, we both know what has to happen now. The question is, would you like to get to know me a little first? We do have all night. Perhaps you would like to know more than my name before we..." I broke off, unable to finish. My clumsy attempt at bravado had failed. John smiled faintly at me. "I appreciate your concern for my feelings, but as it is, I do think I would rather not talk just now." My breath caught in my chest, as though an icy hand of nerves had clenched my lungs shut. "Oh? And why is that?" I croaked. "Because it's a deal easier hurting someone you don't know than hurting someone you do." "So it is going to hurt? I thought so, but no one would really tell me anything about it, of course I do know what's supposed to happen but not the details, and I wish someone had explained and John...do try not to hurt me?" I finished lamely, my nervousness driving me to babbling. "This is as new for me as it is for you," he assured me soothingly. We sat in silence for a few minutes, and then he reached out and held my hand. I looked up at him in surprise. He sighed, just as I had minutes earlier, and got into the bed clumsily, still gripping my hand. When he was settled, he leaned on an elbow and looked me straight in the face. "May I kiss you?" Stunned, I nodded. Very gently, he cradled my face in his hands and touched his lips to mine. When he pulled away, I was blushing furiously. But my voice didn't shake when I told him, "My turn." I kissed him back, a bit more forcefully than I meant to. But he didn't seem to mind—in fact, he gathered me into his arms and held me closer, nudging my lips apart with his. I resisted at first, but then melted into his mouth. I had kissed stable boys before for a lark, but it was nothing like this. I opened my mouth slightly and let him kiss me. When his tongue darted into my mouth, I stiffened and pulled back. The sensation of his tongue on mine had sent a jolt of heat from my lips to the tips of my toes, and I was tingling in unfamiliar places. "I'm sorry," he said, a bit hoarsely. A rosy flush had spread across the high cheekbones. "I shouldn't have done that." "No, I liked it," I said, smiling at him. The longer we touched, the bolder I felt. John seemed to feel the same; moments later, his lips were on mine again, and this time, he kissed me without restraint. Our tongues seemed to fit together as easily as my hand fit in his. Almost unconsciously, my arms drifted up and curled about his neck. His big, warm hands roamed over my back and ribcage, pressing me closer to him. I felt a hardness pressed against my stomach, and a curious wetness began to pool between my thighs. He pulled back from me for a moment. "Can I touch you?" he whispered, much less formally than he had before. I nodded wordlessly and helped him get my nightrail off. He shrugged out of his shirt and took me back into his arms. My breasts collapsed onto his chest, and I felt every inch of him pressed against every inch of me. One hand curled around the back of my knee and hitched it up to his hip. John kissed me again, even longer and deeper than before, and then he spoke in my ear. "I think...I must do it now. I don't think I can wait." I nodded a third time and rolled over onto my back. He rolled on top of me and stared down into my eyes. "Are you afraid?" "Yes." Silence for a moment and then— "John, you're squashing me." We both giggled a little at the absurdity of it all. Here we were, complete strangers, naked together in a huge bed with no idea what to do with each other. He hitched himself up on his elbows. "Eleanor? Will you...show me where?" Surprised, I arched an eyebrow at him. He rolled his eyes. "I know where, you goose, but I meant...well, I can't exactly see what I'm doing here..." We laughed again, and I agreed. Tentatively, I reached a hand between us and took hold of him. The skin of his cock was smooth as silk, and hot to the touch. I stroked the length of it experimentally, and he let out a small moan. I took a deep breath and moved my hand lower, spreading my legs a little wider. I set his throbbing tip at the entrance to my most guarded, and least explored place. "There." He let out his breath and suddenly, without warning, pushed his full length into me. The pain knocked the breath out of me. While it wasn't nearly as bad as I imagined it might be, it was certainly worse than I expected. I squeezed my eyes shut as he thrust into me, hard and fast. It was seven strokes—I counted—but it seemed much longer to me. Each time he withdrew, my inner walls collapsed in gratitude, only to be stretched again by the driving force of John's hips. I jerked in surprise when his seed spilled into me, and I gripped his shoulders tightly as he shuddered violently. Spent, he rolled off of me, panting heavily, hair tousled and eyes closed. We didn't speak for a long time. I didn't know how to react. I was stunned. I felt as though I'd been invaded, as though my last shred of childhood innocence had been ripped away in one fell swoop. I felt like a stranger. The tears came very quickly, spilling out from under my eyelids and splattering on the pillow. I tried to keep quiet, thinking that he had fallen asleep, but I must have made some small sound, because the bedclothes suddenly heaved beside me and a hand closed on my shoulder. "Eleanor! Are you alright?" I nodded miserably, letting the tears flow freely now. "Oh, God, Eleanor. I'm so sorry. Did it hurt terribly? I should have been more careful with you, please forgive me..." He went on for a moment longer, berating himself and apologizing, until I rolled toward him and into his arms. Surprised, he stiffened for a moment, but then wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. "I'm sorry," he whispered into my hair, and he let me cry. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ I awoke sometime later, still cradled in his arms. He felt me wake, and touched my nose gently. "How do you feel?" I stretched my legs, feeling the soreness between them, and the stickiness on my thighs from both of us. "Alright," I replied. My voice crackled with sleep, and he chuckled. "Well, if you want, you could tell me about yourself now. The hard part's over." I laughed aloud then, snuggled deeper into his arms, and began to talk. And thus I spent my first night with my husband, perhaps no longer such a stranger as before. The Evolution of Sex Pt. 02 This is the second part of the Evolution of Sex. John and Eleanor are much freer with each other tonight, after a week has passed. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ It was a beautiful summer day, and I had thrown the parlor windows open. The organdy curtains floated serenely in the breeze. I had dressed my hair myself this morning, and the light wind tugged the a few curly wisps free of the simple twist. It had been a week since my wedding night, and I was slowly becoming accustomed to sleeping in the same bed as someone else. John and I talked each night before we fell asleep. He hadn't tried to make love to me again, but now and then he would catch hold of my hand briefly, lay a hand on my neck, or kiss me gently. These small touches sent my insides fluttering with happiness and nerves. I found myself thinking more and more about that night, especially during mindless tasks like the needlework I was currently engaged in. True, it had been painful, but the memory of the pain was slowly fading, replaced by the other memories of how it had felt to kiss him, the heat of his naked body pressed against mine. The feel of his cock, warm and solid and silky in my hand. A surge of arousal shot through me suddenly, and I felt my nipples tighten against the fabric of my chemise. I glanced down at the pale blue silk that covered my chest, making sure that they weren't showing. I sighed and set down the embroidery. Tonight, I thought, perhaps we would try again. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ "How was your day?" I asked nonchalantly, watching John strip down to a pair of soft linen breeks. He hadn't slept in just his shirt again—resisting temptation I supposed. He also didn't allow servants to undress him, peculiar in a man of his station. He cast me a brief smile over his shoulder. "Fine. I read. Quite a bit. Then Sandringham wanted to go out hunting, so we did. In short, uneventful as usual," he finished, climbing into the big bed beside me. He heaved a sigh and settled in. "How did you pass the day?" "Oh, the usual. Needlework, reading, staring out the window. Mrs. Randall came to visit from Greenwood. She proceeded to advise me in the proper running of a household. I proceeded to tell her that Mrs. Hennessey is far more capable than me, and far too impatient to deal with my meddling." John chuckled, laughing at my impudence and the redoubtable Mrs. Hennessey, our housekeeper. We lapsed into a companionable silence. Hesitantly, I inched a hand over and slipped it into his own. Surprised, he turned his head to look at me. I smiled slightly, and he tugged me toward him. I settled my head into the hollow between his shoulder and his neck, and his breath ruffled my hair. "What's this, hmm?" he asked. He sounded amused, but I heard the underlying quiver in his voice and his arm tightened around my shoulders. "Well, I was thinking..." "Yes?" "I...wanted to...maybe try again." A tremor of laughter ran through him. "You do? Well, I must say I'm quite pleased at that sentiment, Eleanor." Still shy, I stretched my neck up and brushed my lips against his jaw, a question. He answered with a kiss on my hand, and suddenly, I found myself on top of him. His breath was coming shorter than before, and his heart was beating heavily under my hand. I stroked a hand down his chest, brushing his nipple with a finger. A tiny shiver went through him, and he pulled my head down and kissed me. A burst of fire surged through me, and I gripped his shoulders tightly. He nipped my neck gently and kissed the spot to soothe the bite. My own breath was coming a bit shorter now. John flipped me onto my back with one hand and pressed his hips down on mine. I felt a hand slide up my thigh, under my night gown, and rest on my hip. I sat up and pulled the gown off, feeling bold and free. He ran his eyes over my body hungrily, and bent his head to my breast. I gasped as his mouth closed on my nipple, and pressed his head to my chest. The sensation set tiny jolts of heat right between my legs, and I parted them unconsciously. I felt his mouth move over my ribcage, his large palms running up and down my thighs. I settled my hands on his shoulder blades, and he rested his dark head on my stomach. The lull in our activities was somehow peaceful, as though a connection had sprung up between us. He stroked my leg almost absentmindedly, making his was higher and higher. A sudden pressure between my legs made me jump. He had slipped his middle finger inside of me, and his thumb was making small circles on my clit. I heard a soft whimper, and realized that I had made the sound. John kissed my stomach, still crooking his finger inside of me. His fingertip pushed quickly at a spot deep inside, and I arched my back at the sensation. "Am I doing this right?" he breathed, laughing. "Yes. Oh, yes." He laughed quietly and rose up above me again. I frantically pulled at the laces of his breeches, and he kicked them off onto the floor. I took his cock into my hand again, just as I had a week ago, and stroked rhythmically up and down the shaft. He groaned softly and closed his eyes, pushing his hips into my hand. John moved suddenly, trying to enter me, but I laid a hand on his chest to stop him. He cocked his head at me, questioning. "I want to try something different." "And what is that?" he asked, struggling for dignity. We both grinned at his efforts—dignity was hard while a woman had your cock in hand. "Roll over," I said. He did. Rather shyly, I swung my leg over him and straddled his hips. His eyes lit with understanding, and he reached up to run his fingertips over my breasts. I shivered and moaned slightly. I tried not to think about pain as I guided his throbbing sex into my own. John heard my sudden gasp, and looked concerned. "Does it hurt very much?" "Not nearly as much," I replied, breathless. Almost experimentally, I moved my hips up and down once, and was surprised at how wonderful it felt. I was stretched to the limit, desperately full, and it was incredible. I braced my hands on his chest and rocked my hips slowly. The feeling of his shaft sliding in and out of me made me moan in ecstasy. I closed my eyes and threw my head back, moving faster and faster, abandoning myself to sensation. I felt his hands circle my waist, pushing me up and down, guiding my momentum. A tingling pressure began to glow deep inside of me, sparking wherever his skin touched mine. Completely unselfconsciously, I slipped a hand down and rubbed my clit, moaning as the glow slowly rose to a bonfire, searing through my blood and causing a flush to rise to my fair skin. "God, don't stop," John said. I didn't. Suddenly, the fire rose to a peak, and I leaned forward, frantically grinding myself against his pelvis. Out of nowhere, a blinding explosion of sensation overtook me, radiating outward from my sex. I let out a loud moan, shuddering violently as I collapsed onto his chest. As I tightened around him, he groaned and came with me, emptying himself into my womb and sinking his teeth into my shoulder. Each contraction of my inner walls milked him further, until we were both spent and shaking, arms wrapped around each other. A fine sheen of sweat drenched our bodies, and we stuck together slightly. He whispered my name with a sweet tenderness that made me melt. Sometime later, when he was finally soft and quiescent inside of me, I rolled off of him and sighed. "That was..." "Incredible," he finished for me, pulling me to him once more. I settled my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow. The burst of adrenaline slowly ebbed from my veins, leaving me exhausted and elated. We had kicked away the quilt in our frenzy, and we left it off, our heat bringing us all the warmth we needed. When the maid came in the next morning to draw our drapes, I cracked one eye at her, raised my eyebrows dismissively, and closed it again, snuggling closer to John and dropping off into sleep once more. She tiptoed out of the room and shut the door, leaving us alone once more to sleep off our frenzy. I had never been so contented in all my life. The Evolution of Sex Pt. 03 Tonight, something new is discovered, and the possibility of deeper emotion is discussed. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ "Not tonight, John. Please. I'm so sore," I told him, half-laughing. We were lying in bed together, the candlelight casting flickering shadows across our naked bodies. His hands were trailing all over me, but I was exhausted. We had made love every night for an entire week. While I enjoyed it (a huge understatement), I was also newly deflowered, my sex not yet accustomed to the harsh, demanding pressure of his. I was sore, and I had dark fingerprints on my hips. He didn't know about those—I hoped he wouldn't find out. John was a great one for berating himself. His roaming hands stopped, and he rolled away. "I'm sorry, Eleanor. I should have thought about that." I smiled. "Forgiven." I leaned over and snuffed out the candle by the bedpost. "I want you to know something," said John after a few minutes, his voice sounding abruptly in the dark. "Hmm?" I said muzzily, feigning sleepiness. I was, in fact, wide awake, and highly aware of his fiery warmth so close to me. "I don't only make love to you for myself. I...I love seeing you happy. And any pleasure that I can give you, in any way, makes me...very, very happy." I let out my breath in a small sigh, and felt my heart flutter a little. I had known John for a total of three weeks, and been in his bed for two. Could he really feel this for me so soon? Boldly, I asked the question that was hanging in my mind. "John, are you trying to say you love me?" He paused a moment before answering. "Truthfully, I don't know. I've only known you three weeks," he added, echoing my earlier thoughts. "As of now, I would say that I respect you. And I do care for you, and for your happiness. I would like to love you, to be in love with you. I think it will come, in time." At first, pondering his words, I was a little hurt, although I couldn't pinpoint exactly why. It was only to be expected that he wasn't head over heels in love with me. And to be honest, I didn't love him either. But he was right—I knew it would come. I reached over and laced my fingers through his. "Thank you. For your honesty." I felt his smile in the dark. "Eleanor—" "You can call me Nora, if you like. It's what everyone at home calls me." "Nora. Norrraaaa," he teased, rolling the r's and making me giggle. "I like it. It suits you." "You were saying?" "Well, I would like to try something. I could still please you, but I wouldn't have to hurt you. And I was hoping that you would...agree?" I hesitated. I had no inkling of what he could mean, although I knew in what sense he meant it. I was torn between apprehension at whatever it might be, and my lust for him. Lust won. "Alright. What is it?" In reply, he moved over me and kissed me thoroughly. Then, before I could ask more questions, he began to kiss his way down my body, starting first with nips at my collarbone and the hollow of my neck, moving down to the tight, thin skin on my chest, and then to my breasts, lovingly caressing each nipple with his tongue. I let out a ragged sigh and my hands settled on his shoulders, fingers lightly stroking the rounded bones. He moved down again, fingers still toying with my nipples, and placed small, swift kisses all over my ribs and stomach, making me giggle and squirm; I was extremely ticklish. I felt him chuckle and he moved even lower, running his teeth over my hipbone and raising gooseflesh all over my body. And still he moved lower. I felt his warm breath stir the slightly damp curls between my legs, and sat bolt upright, startled with sudden understanding. "John!" "Shh," he said soothingly. "Please. Let me do this. I want to." "Yes, but...are you sure?" "Quite," he said, his voice steady, but I could hear the undercurrent of lust and amusement mingled in his tone. Slowly, I lay back down against the pillows and let him continue. His hands, calloused from years of riding horses, moved up and down my thighs, stroking, exploring, stopping here and there at the back of my knee, the curve of my hip, the hollow of my ankle. I could feel the arousal building up deep within me, like a slow flame. Then, without warning, he pushed my thighs apart. I resisted the impulse to clamp them shut, forced down my natural modesty, and let him do as he would. And his lips closed around me. Instantly, my fears were gone. In their place was a burst of pleasure that took up my entire being. He spread me open and licked every fold, leaving no spot untouched. When he reached my clit, I groaned softly and tangled my fingers in his hair. I felt powerful, completely in control. Shyness gone, I moved him where I wanted him, showing him where to go with my fingers, encouraging him with moans. I clasped my hand over his when he reached up to rest on my breast, and shivered when he rolled my nipple between his fingers. Once more, I felt that slow, simmering heat building in my center. It seemed to start in my toes, and work its way all the way up to the roots of my hair, suffusing my body with a hot flush of lust. I bucked my hips against his face, pressing his head hard into my sex. Suddenly, I felt a different pressure, and moaned loudly as he moved his tongue inside of me. He replaced his mouth on my clit with his fingers, and thrust into me with his tongue, probing and teasing and creating such a burst of sensation that I couldn't hold on— And then I broke, my body shuddering and bucking against the bed. He kept licking me, his tongue like a red hot wire against my clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure surging through my blood. I couldn't make a sound, but could only gasp raggedly as my fingers scrabbled at the sheets. It seemed like hours, but I finally came down, my limbs turning to rubber, my mind relaxing into liquid contentment. I must have fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes again, the moonlight streaming through our window was much brighter. I glanced at John lying next to me, and noticed that he was twitching slightly in his sleep. Curious, I sat up to watch him more closely, but in doing so I disturbed the blankets. They slipped past his hips and revealed the subject matter of his dreams quite clearly. Grinning, I crawled down between his legs. Whether it was left over sexual fervor from earlier, or boldness in the dark, I had no qualms as I took his throbbing member into my mouth. It felt strange, and rather alien. The skin of his head was slick and smooth as glass, while his shaft was softer, like velvet. I sucked lightly on the head for a moment, and then drew my tongue up and down the length of him, enjoying the taste and the smell and the hardness under my hands. I felt him wake with a jerk after a few moments, but I didn't stop, and he didn't try to stop me. Instead, he fell back with a small chuckle that quickly turned into a moan as I took him deep into my mouth. It was difficult fitting him so far in. My throat wasn't accustomed to...well, cock. But I kept at it, bobbing my head up and down, stroking him with my hands and fluttering my tongue constantly. Tentatively, I brushed a finger lightly across his scrotum, and he groaned suddenly, stiffening under my touch. I cupped his balls in my hand and stroked them with my thumb, still sucking on him, and he began to thrust into my mouth, deeper and deeper. Just as I thought I might choke, I felt his release, and his hot, salty seed filled my mouth. Startled, I swallowed it all, and when it was over, I gave his hipbone a lingering kiss and sighed. His legs were still trembling as he pulled me up next to him. He kissed me gently and pulled me close, nestled into his arms. "Thank you." I laughed. "It was your idea." "Yes, and just now I'm feeling quite the genius." "I'm sure you're not the first person who's thought of that," I chided, amused at the breathlessness in his voice. John started laughing then, and he laughed for at least five minutes, shoulders shaking with mirth. "What?" I demanded, baffled. "It 's just that, well, I had this thought..." "What?" I repeated. "Well, if something new is created, the inventor will put a patent on it, no? So it just struck me..." I saw where he was going, and I started to giggle too, rolling my eyes at him. "Yes, I think you should put a patent on that particular act. Since you do it so, so well." He laughed once more, pulled me close, and fell asleep, in that post-coital daze that men fall into so easily. Sighing in contentment, I relaxed against him and drifted off.