A Ride in the Counrty

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We decided to ride in loose-fitting summer frocks instead of knickerbockers, slacks or shorts. Sophie said how relieved she was to get out of her uniform for a change, as it made her feel stuffy and frumpy. I told her that I rather liked her in her uniform. Of course I did not divulge in which way I liked her.

I read a naughty book when I was younger. I used to keep it hidden under the mattress and secretly read it by candlelight when I knew my sister Caroline and everyone else was sleeping. It was about a man and his maid and how he and his two sisters one day tortured her with goose feathers just for the sheer fun of it. It was very well-described, explicit and extreme, but very erotic and enjoyable. I loved the way the naive maid was tricked into it, her subsequent imprisonment at the hands of her tormentors; her gradual subjugation and tying-up and the slow and systematic removal of all her clothing and underwear until she was totally denuded. Seeing Sophie in her uniform always made me think of the book and that delicious scene. How the young sweet girl had kicked and yelled and screamed in the soundproofed snuggery (a converted children’s nursery) and how they continually ignored her suffering and pleas for mercy until their perverted ideals had become thoroughly sated, including the maid’s, so that even she had a happy outcome. Of course, after her salacious ordeal she was as corrupt as they were and she assisted them in further tortures on other unsuspecting ladies they enticed into the snuggery and so the cycle of corruption was perpetuated. It was deliciously outrageous. It made me quite fidgety and unsettled, but I never knew how to assuage those feelings back then.

We rode abreast through the town and headed for the countryside. The wind blew our frocks into billowing sails. Men looked and whistled from pavements and shop doorways. I fancy we made a rather desirable catch for somebody who wanted to take a pair of beauties as a job lot. But my mind was not really on the male of the species at that moment. I had the almost irresistible urge to sample the treasures that Sophie kept hidden under her chemise and under her skirt. If she would not offer them willingly, might I get to use Father’s whip upon her silken, olive-hued back, her delectable derriere, and the backs of her tear-dropped calves? A little bit of gentle persuasion, perhaps, to make her cooperative and agreeable?

“It’s so nice of you to give me the afternoon off, Miss Beatrice,” she puffed, as we pedalled up yet another slope.

“I think we both needed to get out for a while,” I said in reply. “A house is always sad when somebody leaves it, especially the head of a household. It goes into mourning for a while.”

“That is very true, what with your father being the central figure and everything. I really liked him… like him, I mean. I mean I hope we see him again soon. He is such a fair and nice man. I’m really going to miss him.”

“Yes, me too,” and then said quietly to myself, “in more ways than you might imagine, Sophie.”

I wanted to ask her if she had received or given favours to my father during her time in his employ, whether she had sucked his cock, or pushed a sweet, engorged nipple between his lips. But I didn’t want to embarrass her unnecessarily, although I really was quite keen to learn about any naughtiness that may have transpired between them while I’d been living away bursa yabancı escort with Edward. I should have been jealous thinking about her and my father together, as if he was being unfaithful to my late mother, and even to Caroline and I. But I wasn’t, and neither would I have been. To be perfectly honest, the thought of Father’s trusty sabre lancing Sophie’s sweet chink and bottom hole, as indeed it had mine, made me feel quite unnecessary.

Occasionally I looked at Sophie’s legs pedalling up and down. They were darker than mine. She had a tanned complexion. Her mother was apparently Spanish. The sun smiled on her sort, liked their skin. Her thighs had an olive gleam in the sunshine – beautiful. My skin was fair and freckly and so I had to be careful when the sun was shining at its strongest. Her calves were nicely shaped, they were sleek, like teardrops tapering down to slim ankles, probably sculpted by the number of errands she’d had to ride on the bicycle.

“I’m thinking of putting in a word for you at my uncle’s house,” I said, when we were back on the level. “Had you thought of what you might do when you leave us?”

“No. I don’t have another job to go to yet.”

“So? How would you feel about coming with me and Caroline to my uncle’s house… if he’s in agreement? I’m sure he would be able to find you something — it’s an enormous house.”

“Oh, Miss Beatrice, that would be absolutely marvellous. Do you really mean it? I don’t want to be out of work. I-I… I can’t afford to be.”

“Leave it to me, Sophie. I’m sure I could negotiate at least the same terms and conditions that you are presently commensurate with. I think you, Caroline and I will all be very happy there in the charge of my aunt and uncle. They have lots of parties and gatherings in the summer — in the gardens. We play croquet and quoits, and they have their own tennis court. Some very eminent people are known to attend. You’ll get to meet them – famous people, actors and actresses, lords and ladies, the gentry and aristocracy.”

“Oh lordy, Miss Beatrice… I do believe you’re having a lark with me.”

“No I’m not… You wait and see.”

Soon the town gave way to the leafy avenues of the suburbs and then we were in the countryside, riding down narrow lanes where we surprised rabbits at the side of the road and sent them scampering and hopping off into the hedgerow. The air was clearer and sweeter here. The sweet heady fragrances of apple and cherry blossoms filled our nostrils and the sound of birdsong trilled in our ears. Hardly a house, cottage or handcart was passed. Apart from the odd farmstead and cultivated field we seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, riding in the wilds, the back of beyond. We came to a cornfield. The early summer breeze was making sweeping waves in the green corn. It looked very secluded and inviting.

“Let’s stop here and rest awhile,” said I. “My legs are tired. I’m a bit out of practice with cycling.”

“Perhaps this would be a good place have our picnic anyway,” said Sophie. “I’m starving.” “Spiffing idea, Sophie… It looks perfectly perfect, actually.”

We dismounted and wheeled our bicycles through a wooden gate. We went along the edge of the field to find a shady spot under some trees and set up the picnic.

Sophie had made cucumber sandwiches and cut a home-baked pork pie into quarters. bursa sınırsız escort There were olives and tomatoes and grapes and we washed it all down with glasses of wine. We had it all spread out on a red chequered blanket and by the time we were on the second bottle of wine we were both feeling squiffy and the sun had made me feel quite dozy. I lay back upon Sophie’s shoulder and she put her arm around me. I could feel the softness of her breast in the middle of my back. I felt so relaxed and peaceful. We were miles from anywhere and there was nobody about. In fact, I don’t think we’d seen a soul for at least two hours. In the far distance I could hear the faintest chimes of a church clock. I counted.

“Four o’clock already,” I said. “Oh, I love it here, Sophie, so peaceful. I could drop right off to sleep.”

“Be my guest, Miss Beatrice,” said Sophie, giving me a little hug so that I squashed into her softness even more. I could feel the beat of her heart. I inadvertently allowed my hand to stray and rested it on top of her knee. In my other hand was the glass of wine which I sipped gently. “I feel, quite, quite drunk, Sophiekins.”

“Me too, but who cares?”

“Quite right, who cares? Who gives a brass-monkey? Do you know something, Sophie?”

“What?

“I feel deliciously naughty.”

“Oh?”

“I think it must be the sun… the sense of freedom I have now. I feel like doing something really reckless and amazing.”

I stroked Sophie’s knee, distractedly.

“Like what?”

“Taking all my clothes off and going skinny dipping.”

“Skinny dipping?”

“Yes. That’s ‘swimming in the buff’ to you.”

“Oh really? Well, I must say you’re very brave.”

“Well, there’s no one about; no one for miles. How about you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It seems so naughty.”

“That’s the general idea.”

“But what if we’re seen? What about the farmer?”

“Well, that kind of makes it more exciting, don’t you think – the possibility of being caught?”

“Miss Beatrice, I do believe there’s a wicked streak in you.”

“Maybe. But why not make the most of our lives while we can? We could both be run over by a milk cart tomorrow.”

“Oh Miss Beatrice, that’s so morbid.”

“No it’s not. I’m just stating a fact. You have to grab at life while you can. That’s the way I’m going to be from now on. Footloose and fancy free. No more fearing what the future holds.”

“You make it sound so gung-ho and exciting.”

“And that’s as it should be Sophie. Live for today and sod tomorrow! So, are you going to join me… in the river… no clothes?”

“Ermmm…”

“Look, there’s absolutely nobody to tell us what to do, so let’s just do it. There’s no one around for miles. We haven’t seen a single soul for hours. Look, it’s a lovely clear river; and today the sun is shining on us. What could be better than to be free and adventurous, to be as nature intended? I feel I could take on the world. We came into it without clothes; we will most probably leave the same way; so why don’t we do the bit in between without a strip on as well?”

“You are awful, Miss Beatrice. You make it all sound very tempting and exciting.”

“Good, that’s the ticket. Come on… it will be fun. Let’s live dangerously while we can.”

“You’re getting me into bad ways, Miss Beatrice.”

“I hope görükle escort so, Sophie, I do hope so. Just one more thing, though…”

“Yes, Miss Beatrice?”

“You can stop calling me Miss Beatrice while you’re off duty. We are out together socially so for today just plain ‘Beatrice’ will be perfectly fine.”

“If you’re sure, Miss B… I mean, Beatrice. I don’t want to appear disrespectful.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t. Anyway, you’re three years older than me. It seems ridiculous to maintain protocol away from the house. I want us to be normal everyday friends. So, come on then… let’s undress,”

We watched a swan and its mate glide majestically downstream.

“Come on,” said I, playing with the top button of my frock. “Last one in is a lemon.”

Just then, on impulse, I turned about and kissed her. It just happened. At first she didn’t resist, maybe she was stunned by my behaviour. But then she seemed to come to her senses and pushed me off of her. “What on earth are you doing, Miss Beatrice?”

I had the horrible feeling I might have offended her. So I just looked at her and pretended to be sorry. I put my hand to my mouth and feigned horror.

“What’s got into you?” She said.

“I’m sorry, Sophie. I thought you might like it. Please forgive me.”

“What do you think I am?”

Without answering her I pushed her down on the ground and held her shoulders pinned while I kissed her again. She struggled briefly, but gradually her resistance weakened and I felt her arms go round me and draw me tight against her, crushing my breasts into hers. My tongue probed at her wet lips, insistent, until I felt them part and allow me in. My little fishy swam and wriggled around her teeth and her tongue. I felt flushes of heat, and it wasn’t the sun. I squeezed her breasts, firm and well-rounded. They swelled with her breathing, lush and generous in my hand. I loosened the straps of her chemise around her shoulders, freeing her beauties. I kissed the dark tips and suckled her until she moaned.

Sophie raised her arms so I could take off her dress and her chemise. I trailed me tongue over her hot olive belly, probing the hard, salty knot of flesh in the centre. I loosened the stays of her drawers and pulled them down and stroked her thighs while gazing at the lush undergrowth of hair between her legs. She had so much more than me in that department and I guess that is why I stared. It was pure fascination and wonderment. I wondered if all women of Spanish blood were as well adorned as Sophie.

She hid her face behind her hands, as if embarrassed by what was happening to her. My fingertips played among the tight curls that were like thousands of tiny watch springs. I eased her thighs apart and saw the shining pink slash of flesh, twinkling, beckoning, and I bent my head to kiss the pouting, vermilion lips. I worked my tongue inside her, then sought her clitoris. Her hips took up the rhythm and in between her breathless sighing she said: “Oh, Miss Beatrice… How could you do such a thing… such a rude, rude thing? What must you think of me?”

Afterwards we had our swim, charging down to the river bank with me playfully smacking Sophie’s backside, urging her forward until she splashed into the cool, clear water with me following. The water was much colder than expected and it took our breaths away until we got used to it. We swam like water-babies, doing all sorts of tricks, ducking under and swimming between each other’s legs and taking delicious liberties with each other’s bodies. We kissed and hugged and swam with gay abandon… until a voice called out to us from the river bank.

“And just what the hell do you two think you’re up to?”

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