Date: Wed, 27 Apr 2011 12:59:18 +0200 (CEST)
From: Teresa Yam <trevor@maytum.fsnet.co.uk>
Subject: A Ride in the Country (category - lesbian encounter)

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 when
I was thirteen.

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 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. 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 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?"