Tales Told out of School. 9: A Fell-top Miss-Adventure.

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How could anyone sleep after that?

There was too much on both of their minds to allow them to sleep.

He wanted to touch her, raise her nightdress and get it off her and out of the way between them; touch her breasts, hold them, feel them pushing against him; kiss her, and them; make love to her. She hadn't been 'started', that long, so the problem would be minimal once he took that feminine item out of her.

His sisters were screaming at him in his head and he couldn’t keep them out! 'Don't you dare, Peter'!

He should go as far away from Sheila as he could while he was in this dangerous mood, if he could bear to leave her. He couldn't stand that thought.

“Peter?”

“Yes, my l….” Too soon to call her that, but his mind had lolloped off down that track, and his tongue sometimes went ahead of his brain, as now.

“Peter. Will you tell me something?”

“Anything. Just ask.”

Talking was safer than just lying there, thinking, imagining, feeling, becoming ever more enervated. She must notice him there, standing to attention, saluting the sky.

“What happened to us today?”

“How do you mean?” He was not sure what she was asking, or why.

“I mean, between us.” She moved closer to him, risking putting her leg over his, after she had pulled her nightdress up and out of the way of her doing that. It was up near her waist already.

She shouldn’t be doing this!

“I know how it started; when I fell, and you came to me out of nowhere, and how I felt at first as you helped me, but that fear soon passed. I know what I feel now, and… it is very different.”

Just as it was for him.

She was being very brave to explore those first moments, but he was glad that she had asked, and opened up this other avenue that he also needed to know about where it concerned her impressions of things.

“I noticed it more as you carried me down. I was more relaxed by then and realized I could trust you. I had too by then.”

She had made some very naïve assumptions about him.

“Was I wrong, when I thought you wanted to kiss me those times you rested with me and turned to face me?”

He was glad that she had courage to ask. He would answer equally candidly.

“You were not wrong.”

He had an awkward feeling about where this was leading.

She came closer over him as though needing his warmth. She had found a lot of courage from somewhere. The only part of him she was not touching was that part sticking up in the air again, and her touching that, even by accident, was only a matter of time.

“I would not have minded being kissed then, though I didn’t understand it as I think I do now. I felt it most keenly by the river after you left me. I didn’t want you to go so soon. We still had so much to say to each other.”

He would have stayed longer with her had he known that her feelings had been the same as his own.

“I didn’t want to leave you either, Sheila.” Her name sounded so magical on his lips. “And yes, I did want to kiss you, and even several times before that. And since. But I didn’t want to frighten you.” As though that confession now, would not frighten her.

“I would not have been too frightened, Peter. If you had kissed me then, touched me even, we could have had this conversation, or one like it, before now.”

She slid her arm over his chest and held him closer.

“You can kiss me now, Peter, if you want to. I think I would like to be kissed.”

She either had immense courage, or was being too encouraging to prod so relentlessly at the demon raging within him and bringing him more to life, if that were even possible.

It was possible! He was perspiring. It was getting too hot in here.

Oh Lord! Everything just got worse, but he could not refuse her. Where was she leading him?

“I think I will always want to kiss you, Sheila. I doubt I will ever get enough of you or get close enough to you.”

To get as close to her as he wanted to be, there would be just one other thing they would be doing. He would always want to do be doing that to her too, but that was out of bounds for several reasons.

“Then why don’t you come closer to me and kiss me, Peter?”

He tried to slow her down.

“We should not move too quickly with each other, Sheila.” At least he was the one saying it and not her in a defensive kind of way.

“Why not? We already made great strides forward even before we left that gully, when you dressed me again.”

She had a way of saying things that didn’t help his composure. “I see things more clearly now and I’m not afraid. Why are you holding back when I asked you to kiss me?”

He gave in, pulling her closer to him and raised himself to lean on his elbow beside her, looking into her eyes as he kissed her on the lips.

He repeated it, slower, this time and held it for longer as she snuggled into him, pulling his head closer to her and holding him there.

That other thing of his was pointing almost directly at her now.

“It was too soon in the gully, and even by the river. I think you were still very wary of me.”

“Not by then.” She sighed. “I can’t sleep now, and I think I would rather be kissed anyway.”

It was still too soon to be having this conversation, but they were kissing and talking, and holding each other, even as other things were happening to them and around them.

The noises that had disturbed her were no longer heard; forgotten, but she still had questions to ask.

“Do you believe that there are such things as soul-mates, Peter, or love at first sight?”

She knew where this was going, and so did he. He'd already told her he was now a believer in that.

He closed his eyes with all of the interesting and enervating alarm bells going off in his mind. He would have to do something with that other thing soon, to get it out of the way.

Why did women always ask such wonderfully loaded questions that provided their own answers just by asking them? He didn’t mind that question, which surprised him.

He had learned enough from his sisters, to count to five, before he ever answered one of those ‘red-flag’ questions.

After a few difficult stumbles where he had hurt their feelings he had soon learned how not to respond, but this was different again.

He didn’t mind responding. He’d felt a very strong attraction to her even as he first saw her, and it was even stronger now, and growing by the minute (like that other part of him) as he sensed how her feelings mirrored his own.

“After what happened to me in the last few hours and to us, I believe it now.

Her heart (or something) was taking control of her mind.

“So, you felt something between us too, Sheila?” Not a direct answer, but answering a question with another question, as women did, but a question that was more a statement, and not requiring any answer other than a kiss. He kissed her.

She snuggled into him, feeling happy, but in a precarious kind of way, like tiptoeing through a minefield; or that moth again, deliberately pushing its arse into the flame to find out what it felt like when its arse got burned.

He continued. “I am gradually learning that anything is possible. Even ‘love at first sight’ which I thought unlikely. Was that how it happened to you too?”

She liked that answer and the way that follow-on rhetorical question said everything.

“Yes, Peter. Me too.”

Another few steps forward, while backing into the flame!

She was a woman, and would always ask such questions. Women were all about senses, feelings, words, and mental emotions. And never-ending questions which were always double barrelled, with dynamite attached. Answer one question the wrong way, or incautiously and then inherit the consequences.

Men were visual and touchy, and about doing, not talking. However, he still daren’t touch her as he wanted to. The way he was feeling, he would explode soon, helpless to stop it, and he hoped she had her eyes closed, and couldn’t see him the way he was now, prodding at the wall, or the ceiling, as though the room had shrunk, in the 'wonderland' they were in.

“Peter?” He liked her questions, but they were also dangerous with the way he was feeling.

“Yes, Sheila.”

“I am sorry, I am like… like this. I would like to know what it is like to make love, to be loved… that way. Or am I moving along too quickly?”

What could he say? His mind had just gone blank, and his sisters were screaming like banshees in his head. He let her continue.

“I’ve never done this or felt like this before, Peter. We have only known each other for a few hours, but you have already seen me naked more than once, and I….”

She had better not tell him that she had observed him lying on that bed just half-an hour ago, and she was aware that he was even more rampant now, having watched it for a few minutes behaving like a strange metronome, not ‘ticking’ off the seconds, but ‘pulsing’ them off as it throbbed in time with his speeding heartbeat; swelling, relaxing, swelling, relaxing. This was too serious to laugh at.

He was sorry about her condition too, but when he thought about it, it was better this way, forcing them to slow down. If they could be slowed down after what she was suggesting.

“I’ve never been in a situation like this before either, Sheila, but I expect I will survive for a few more days.”

She wasn’t sure of that; about his survival, but she was glad he understood.

She had courage enough to tell him more.

“I won’t be like this for long. Two days anyway, maybe three. I’m just starting this awkward time, but it does not usually go on for long.”

She was telling him much more than she should be, opening up maddening possibilities in the near future, not helping his condition. Where did she find such courage to be able to discuss this shocking subject so soon after meeting him? He was still nothing more than a stranger to her; but a stranger who had captured her mind and her emotions.

She reached up and turned his head to kiss her.

“We should have done all of this sooner, Peter. Even as we met, before this happened to me. But I suppose that would have been too soon.”

Way too soon! And difficult.

Neither of them had been ready, though things had very quickly changed between them, even before they’d left that gully.

When he had offered to stay and help with the calves, she had not hesitated. He’d been unable to help himself by then, and she had been counting on that, leading him along to make that offer to stay.

She laid back down beside him and brought his hand up onto her side as they continued to talk, to breathe over each other, becoming intoxicated in each other’s scents, and kissing as though the world was about to end.

They would always need to talk; and could, when they rested after becoming tired of kissing.

At this rate he would not be able to wait for two days. He was even starting to come, but he mustn’t.

Eventually she dozed off with him holding her and touching her in so many soft places (but not those he most wanted to be touching or to be finding out about). She was no longer so concerned about such things.

He couldn’t sleep, still wound tighter than an overwound clock spring, but at least he hadn’t come onto her. Close, though.

He should go and sit in a cold bath.

There would be no sleep for him after that conversation and its promise.

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