The Quest. A Tale of Vengeance, Torment, and Love.

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Never too fast for her.

She reached out to stop me, but it was not to be. I made sure I did not pull her in with me.

Her laughter, once she saw how well I trod water, with my head now above it, floated out to me like glass wind-chimes, tinkling out their own message in a light breeze.

She hugged her knees to herself, chuckling. She knew how to torment a man; deliberately and calculatingly letting me see everything about her under her skirt as she sat like that, hugging her knees to her chin and her feet apart, framing everything so nicely for me to see and to admire.

“Now I can watch you swim.” She watched me for a few moments, as I watched her... studied her, down there. I ached to reach out and touch her. She knew it.

“You make it look so easy.”

I recovered quickly before she objected to me being so obvious, the way I stared. I was glad that I was hidden by the water. I had another problem; the usual problem when I was close to her.

“It is, easy. You can even float on your back, provided you don’t panic.”

I showed her that, too, cautious not to push myself up too high, and concern her with my still obvious, aroused condition.

She was battling something in her own mind.

“Would you stop me drowning, if....?” She was being very daring.

What was she asking? I had no need to ask. I knew.

“You will not drown with me to help you.”

Before I could stop her, slow her down, or reason with her, she stood up and was taking off her dress and petticoats, even as I swam there, watching her. I could not believe my eyes, but it was exactly what I wanted... everything I could ever have dared to dream of.

She took everything off; ‘everything’, and as she stepped into the water, I came close, took her hand, mesmerized by everything I could see so clearly of her body that she wanted me to see... of her developing breasts and much more that deeply interested me between her legs as she moved, and I helped her into the water with me. She had some hair growing there.

She trusted me.

I did not understand that. I felt insanely possessive, wanting to overwhelm her even then. However, I still retained a shred of sanity.

I showed her how to float at first, convincing her that if she did not move quickly; her head... her face... would stay above water and she would be able to breathe. I could not ignore her breasts as she did that, with them at the same level as my eyes, and she knew it.

She didn’t care.

My mouth had gone dry and I thought my head would explode. I had never before seen such a well-developed, completely-naked girl, so close to me.

And she was mine.

I would die for this, if her family found out.

For a moment I felt a stab of fear. I was letting myself be tempted by the devil. The old teachings drummed into me, came back for me to wrestle with.

This was wrong.


It was not wrong.

I silenced those voices.

This was not the devil tempting me. This was what god intended, and this was our very own Garden of Eden, and this, was my Eve.

No thorns here. No evil that a person did not already bring with them. No supposed tree of knowledge with its tempting fruit, or the so-called ‘original sin’, which was no sin at all until the church decided that it was. There was just us, and our love. No evil at all. Another teaching... unlearned.

I supported her with my hand held lightly under her, her breasts almost in my face, gradually taking my support away, to show her that she could float by herself, being careful not to touch her anywhere else, though god knows I wanted to.

When she got back to her aunt’s house, she would need to wash the smell of sulfur out of her hair and off her body.

I spoke to her, telling her to stay low in the water, not to fight it, and to slowly bring her legs up to her body, opening them, before she kicked like a frog but to move slowly, at first and not to let her knees break the surface of the water.

She did that, and moved herself on my hand, repeating it as I stayed close beside her with my other hand, held lightly under her buttocks, floating with her into the deeper water.

She spluttered and began to panic until I caught her again, holding her at her waist, pulling her close to me, upright now. My feet just touched bottom, but hers, didn’t.

I brushed loose hair back from her face, barely touching her breast as I moved to do so.

“I have you. The water does not taste good, but it will not harm you. It is the same water that others go to spas for, to delight in drinking as a tonic.”

She smiled at me. “Thank you for helping me. I could stay here forever with you. It is very pleasant here, and even more pleasant that you are with me. But I am naked, Guillaume, and you are not. We should at least start out on even terms.”

She was proving to be my equal in every way.

I felt her fumbling at my waist until I helped her, soon removing my remaining clothing, tossing it onto another rock, away from my shirt, which we would use to dry ourselves with, when we got out. Whenever that would be.

I knew how my body was misbehaving, and why, and so did she, if her mother had taught her what all daughters needed to know about a man. Although, she may have seen her brothers when they were like that, disporting themselves with one of the servant girls in some out-of-the-way place as they went into them. There would be no mistaking what anyone was doing, then.

I did not want to scare her this soon after we’d first met, but she took that initiative out of my hands.

Finding that she was standing on a firmer footing now, she took my hand and led me out of the water, with her.

“We can get back in, if we need to. For the moment, we can lie on my dress, Guillaume, as we dry and get warm together. It will go into the wash tonight, or I will wash it out myself.”

She encouraged me to lie down, before she came down beside me, pulling at me to keep me on my back as she leaned over me; not letting me hide myself, or cover myself in any way, her breasts pushing into my chest, kissing me.

There did not seem to be a shy bone in her body.

It was I who felt shy.

My condition was too damned obvious to the world, even though she was the only part of my world that was seeing it in all of its rampant glory.

“Why are you so shy, Guillaume? You know what happened between us this morning... how we feel about each other. This is normal, and it was ordained to happen between us before ever we met. I know that now. We have no need to be shy with each other, and we should not waste this opportunity presented to us, as I stay with my aunt.

“As long as I get home in time for dinner or even later than that, it does not matter. I shall retire soon after that, and you shall join me... and spend the night with me, and the next few nights after that too, as long as I am there, provided you can break away. My room is easily accessible from the roof and I shall leave my window open and a candle burning.”

I would break away. I often stayed out late, hunting, not arriving home until late the next day with my kill.

She laughed. “I never thought I would be thankful for my mother having one of her ‘turns’.”

She thought further.

“We will have so little time together after this, that we should take advantage of what we have. A few nights, anyway.”

She sat up over me on my right side, one leg, bent under the other, and kissed me, taking note of what she could see, starting at my head.

My hand nearest her, extended over her legs to touch her upon her nether cheek; my forearm touching soft hair; the same hair I had seen between her legs as she had paddled into the water to join me.

“You have some scars about your head.”

I said just the one word.


I explained. “If I did not respond quickly enough and block him, my father’s sword... made of wood, and blunt, but heavy... left a bruise, or a scar. I have marks on my legs too, from not using a staff as quickly as I should have done. That long scar on my left arm is from a boar, after I thought I had killed him, and after he’d got his tusk into me.”

She traced out those scars, and then touched my nipples.

“Your nipples are nothing like mine.”

“Why does a man have nipples? They are of no use to him. Not like mine.”

She touched her own breasts to show her nipples to me, her hands, holding under them, making them stand out for me to admire.

I admired. I wanted to touch her nipples, as she had touched mine. I so wanted to touch them for myself, to see, but instead, opened my hand fully upon her side, pulling her closer to me, wondering if I dared to move that hand farther over her and between her legs from the back.

She was talking to me, trying to take my mind off my other problem, which would always hold her attention. She would not succeed. She was merely re-enforcing it.

“You are muscled differently too.” She had touched above my belly and had seen those muscles suddenly harden up, startling me.

My hand had tightened on her too.

She chuckled.

“But you do have a belly button, as do all of those born of a woman.”

She looked at me. lower down, and then looked back at my face.

“May I, Guillaume?”

I knew what she was asking. Could she touch?

I swallowed hard and nodded, at a loss for words, feeling her touch ‘him’, hold ‘him’ gently around, exploring, learning, feeling how tense ‘he’ was and how there was no ‘give’, no flexibility.

“I think he is so big and hard, to deliver our children into me; into my body. We’ll find that out tonight too.”

I gulped. ‘Girls’ and I had often played such games before; touching, learning about each other, but never with this kind of seriousness.

“And this is where our children form, before they come out of here.” She kissed me on the end of that upstanding item of mine, curious about the opening at the top of it, as she held it with one hand, cushioning my testicles with the other.

She knew what was happening to me after that touch, feeling the pulses as well as my disjointed movements.

“I think you are ‘coming’, Guillaume.” She seemed to know about that.

“I am. I certainly am. I am sorry.” I had ‘come’ before too, many times, but I had done that for myself, not with the help of any girl. Not until this one.

There was nothing to be sorry about, she wanted to see this where she had never seen it before, though she knew about it, having overheard servants talking.

“Yes, you are coming.” She was sure of it now, laughing nervously.

She was engrossed, watching, feeling how my staff, stiffened in her hand, throbbed, and pulsed, with the purplish head of it beginning to flare out as I tensed up with her touch and that approaching climax.

“So, this is what it is like, and just like those other animals do in the farmyard when they are being bred. I heard the men saying that to each other. They say it other times too, in the barn. I can hear them. They say that to the young woman they are focused on at that very moment as they push into her, and then they, ‘come’.

“Do they need to warn her of that? Why?”

She watched my face, seeing the changes taking place as I inexorably built up to that moment.

I sensed what she was thinking. Should she rise up over me and take ‘him’ into her body, as she had seen some more experienced women do? Better not. It should happen slowly, going into her for the first time, and at this time there would be nothing slow or gentle about this going into her.

She held me; that part of me, much more firmly, curious about everything, and watched what happened, feeling what was happening; seeing; feeling the pulses, hearing my groans, seeing my growing discomfort and disorientation; hearing my quickening of breath as I stiffened up with her touch, then she watched my sperm flood out of that onto my belly; some—the first pulses spurting up onto my chest. This, would soon be hers, and be in her, along with more of this other, ‘life-making’ fluid.

She was wide-eyed, amazed, thankful to have had her curiosity addressed at last about this.

“Thank you for letting me see this.”

She touched that fluid where it had pooled on my belly, and she smelled it.

“It is very slippery, and it has a distinctive smell. I suppose that there was a lot of this that Adam released in that first Garden of Eden, but most of it must have gone into Eve.”

All of it would have gone into Eve, rather than to be wasted like this.

My mind was not functioning at that moment. Just like Adam’s mind had not, after that same crucial interaction with Eve.

She cushioned my testicles in her hand. “Animals which do not have these, do not reproduce. We should look after these.” She was taking possession of them.

She was puzzled for a moment, seeing something else.

“You have a birthmark just like mine, Guillaume, circular and rosy, but on the other leg at the top... just outside your right leg, while mine is on the inner thigh of my left. How interesting.

"I wonder if these birthmarks, yours and mine, are meant to be put together, on top of each other, to touch, as we come together. I suppose we will find that out tonight.”

Or sooner, the way things were going.

I groaned.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Now it is your turn to examine me, my love. Touch, wherever you will, ask whatever questions you wish, and then we shall have my second swimming lesson as we learn even more about each other.”

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