Letter - 2
From Torg Adventure
Dearest S;
As you know, when we parted, I was headed toward a much more somber destination than your upcoming exotic adventure. The train journey down from London to Scarborough was uneventful; I availed myself of some much needed slumber after our late night passions. The steam carriage from the train station was bumpy and the chuffing of the engine vexed me, all things putting me in a foul mood, except for reminiscences of our fervent and delightfully repeated congress. What I needed was silence to contemplate the new things from Sir Richard's book with which you and I experimented; I knew that was not forthcoming, thus my sour mood. My mind would not rest while I rode, and being impossible to enjoy more pleasurable mental exercises, it turned its focus on my destination.
I recalled memories of summer holidays at my great-uncle's estate. My paternal grandmother's brother, Ebenezer (or Ebbie to my young palate) was a terribly large gentleman, but with me, he was always gentle and sanguine. I remember his hands the most, enormously long-fingers but thin and able to retrieve a button out of a mouse hole without alarm. The moors surrounding his manor were filled with mysterious hidey-holes and strange geological milieux, perfect fodder for the active imagination of a boy, and the manor itself had the finest vista of the ocean I've ever beheld. Ebenezer was at the advanced age where he had outlived all of his children and most of his grandchildren.
My heart grew melancholy from remembering joyous days and knowing that they could never be revisited in person with the passing of this kind giant. I hadn't visited in eight years, before his daughter died, and my mood grew darker for neglecting the relationship.
As the carriage neared the gates to the property, my sense of dread multiplied at the thought of attending the funeral of a favorite relative in these once-happy halls, as if the memory of days past would be sullied by the sober event in the present. Then a series of pleasant occurrences helped drag me out of my fetid mood.
First was the tootling of the clockwork gate mechanism, with its complex chime of bells and the gigantic cuckoo in the capstone of the gatehouse. The gears opened the gate to a great humming and tinkling performed in a most amusing musical fashion, culminating with the giant bird emitting its pneumatic basso profundo 'Cuckoo-Cuckoo'. Ebbie was so fond of the spring workings over prosaic steam that he had several pieces commissioned over his lifetime, each revealing his odd whimsy.
We turned the corner and chugged down the long drive to the manor house. The second event occurred when I quickly remembered the season and smiled to see all of the apple trees that lined the drive were in riotous bloom, pink and white petals swirling in the wind, a pastoral landscape painted by the Great Artist himself. You would have swooned at the sweet perfume they conveyed. Apple blossom time was Uncle's favorite, and thus mine as well. He chose a good time to leave this base Earth. My heart cast off its darkest cloak.
The final occurrence to melt away the cast iron manacles on my gloom happened when we pulled up to the manor house. The doors swung wide and a figure darted out. My eyes first took in her radiant beauty; my ears next heard her dulcet voice; finally, my nostrils consumed her heavenly parfum. My cousin, Meg.
Actually, she is my second cousin, Ebenezer's only granddaughter, Margaret, now a young woman, whom I hadn't seen since we were adolescents. My what eight years will do; last I saw her, she was a skinny, rough and tumble girl, as at home in the notch of a tree as sitting in the parlour sewing with the ladies. She was my partner in crime on summer afternoons adventuring in the forest. She was as often the pirate as the wench, the cowgirl as often the saloon girl, or the submariner as much as the mermaid.
Now she had grown into a lovely woman, all lace and satin, with a beautiful face and graceful cygnine neck. Gone were the smudges of mud on her cheek, gone were her brother's discarded trousers, which she found more comfortable than skirts and petticoats. In their place was a fine dress, her brunette hair in a stylish coiffure, and a touch of rouge on her cheek. But still the same flash of elan and mischief in those gray eyes. I dare say you will enjoy her company when you meet her; the two of you think alike.
As I came out of the steam carriage, she curtsied first then rushed to hug me. "Coz! You made it here!" she exclaimed before giving me a kiss on the cheek. It felt good to be with her again, and all glum ministrations of my brain vanished. She took my arm and led me up the front stairs to the house. It was exactly as I remembered it, sumptuous and full of bric-a-brac from Ebbie's travels.
"I've put you in the guest room across the hall from Grandpapa's room. I'll have your luggage brought up."
"You seem the right fit lady of the house."
She blushed. "Yes, I've run this house for the last five years. After Mother died, Grandpapa needed someone to keep up with everything."
"My condolences on the great loss of your mother. She was a fine lady. I apologise that my military service prevented me from attending her funeral."
"Thank you. You couldn't come and that's that. But enough of that! We shall have afternoon tea at four, and you can tell me what you've been doing with yourself for all these years. Meanwhile, go freshen up in your room or take a nap. I'm sure you're weary from the trip from the city. I've sent the chambermaid to turn down your bed." Her gaze turned mischievous, and a slight smile crinkled in the corner of her lips. "I need to make sure the cook hasn't forgotten how to make scones. Ta!" Off she fled in a flurry of rustling skirts and crinoline.
The next part of this letter wouldn’t even have been mentioned, except for your request to hear everything of my amatory excursions. I hope you are also receiving the attention you warrant, and you most certainly will apprise me of your own adventures, won't you?
To continue, I mounted the stairs, finally feeling the kinks of the road working out a bit by stretching the leg muscles. I turned toward the wing my uncle's room was on and walked down the long hall. As I entered the room, I saw that Meg's man had already planted my trunk in the room. Very efficient! The maid was also quick, for my clothes were already hanging in the closet.
As I turned to the bed, I was presented with the maid's precious posterior as she opened the bed covers (though not nearly as luscious as yours, love). I gave her round bottom a swat, and she squawked and turned to me. The pretty young thing, most likely a relation to the Scottish cook by her red hair and fair complexion, cutely blushed crimson down to her very hands.
"Aw've put your clothes away and turned down the bed. Would you be a needin' anything else, sir?" Her brogue was arousing, and her unintended invitation made me smile.
"I am going to nap. Please help me with my boots." I sat on the bed and proffered a leg to her. She bent down and took the heel, exposing a large amount of her alabaster decolletage. As she tugged, her breasts swayed like lanterns on ship deck. Then she turned around, presenting her bum to me, in order to get better leverage. I placed my hands on those spheres, to which she said, "Sir!" before yanking harder on the boot, causing it to slip off.
She took the next boot in the same fashion, having succeeded in spite of my arsinine attentions, which I also resumed. On one heaving tug from her, I slapped her backside with both hands, which coincided with the boot coming off, and therefore propelled the girl, boot in tow, to the middle of the room into a heap on the floor.
I chuckled as I rose to help her, giving her a hand up. Thus having captured her, I leaned down for a kiss, since embarrassing her, I thought she deserved recompense. She gasped, but didn't flee. It didn't take but a few seconds before she opened her lips to deepen the kiss. We entertained each other for minutes, me trying to entice her timid tongue out of her mouth. Then I broke the buss.
"My cuffs and buttons are sticking today. I could use help with them as well."
Without a word, she took my wrist and attacked the cuff links. As she did, I breathed her scent and studied her hair and movements. I was close enough to feel warmth from her, yet she tried to be professional. When she started on the buttons of my shirt, I stroked her hair and caressed her skin. This made her nervous and made unfastening buttons more difficult. Her fingers trembled and her breathing quickened.
With the shirt undone, I removed it, hanging it on the trunk. Then I cleared my throat, pointing to the buttons on my trousers. Her breath caught, and she looked at me with wide round eyes, but no fear. She had to kneel to get to the right height, and I tousled her hair. Her fingers worked the buttons with ease now, her shaking vanished.
"Will there be anythin' else, sir?" she asked, her deep green eyes filled with contented approval and a slight smirk on her mouth. Her respiration made her engaging promontories move with delicious aplomb.
"Please make sure everything is in order."
With no hesitation, she dipped her fingers into my trousers and hunted for the opening to my undergarments. Our playfulness made me somewhat turgid, so she had no trouble bringing out her prize. When it appeared before her, she blushed again, and from my vantage I could see it reach the tops of her breasts.
She licked the head without my direction, lavishing attention on it. She was a tyro, but that was exciting in itself. When she kissed down the length to my bollocks, I moaned my intense appreciation. Her hair went through my fingers like fine silk as she worked on me. I almost fell over when she took me in her mouth, even though she didn't swallow half of it. The delicate movements of her tongue were quite stimulating, and, in just a couple minutes, I pulled her head close, so as to not spill out of her mouth, and surged deep down her throat. She groaned around me, swallowing as fast as she could and only choking slightly.
Once we both had recovered, I offered her a hand up. She held it tightly as she leaned up for another kiss, which I gave her. Then she straightened her dress and fled the room, turning at the door to give me a wink and blow me a kiss. She left with a spring in her step. I proceeded to my nap.
I would tell you more, but the bell has been rung for tea, and I have my braces to adjust. I will write again, and I wait in need of hearing of your pleasures and excitements.
Tenderly, M
