Morgandy Fairfax sat on her horse and stared in amazement at the unclothed man lying facedown in the pasture. While not truly hers, the estate was her home. Once she married the man who owned Peregrine Manor, she’d have no fear of ever having to leave.
She rode across the vast countryside every day, and never, not even once, had she encountered anything as odd as a naked man sprawled out on his belly. By far, the sight fell under the category as the most unusual.
Morgandy slipped off her saddle and landed with a firm stance. She remained entranced by the mass of lovely, carved out muscles on the male figure. Men were faces, hands, maybe torsos. They were not backsides as bare as a newborn’s. Her deceased husband had not compared to the strong specimen prone before her.
Curiosity took control, and she knelt next to the stranger. Her lips went dry and she swept her tongue around their rim. At the same time, she experienced a different whetting -- something quite capable of drawing pools of dampness from her pores.
Her husband had left her sexually unfulfilled. His inadequacies often led her to have dreams, and the marvelous sight lying before her made her head swim with memories of those nighttime reveries. She stared at the taut skin stretching over the firm figure and a fantasy heightened her sultry condition as she imagined what she could do with him.
Her desire was to start in the center of his back and flick the tip of her tongue against his spine. She’d travel upward along the crease defining the twin slabs of back muscle. Then, stopping at his shoulder, she’d take her time kissing her way across to his neck.
Sweet, salty, how would she describe the flavor of his flesh
? Used to producing fantasies for her mental fulfillment, she helped her imaginings along and licked the back of her hand as a basis for the sense of taste. Thrills skittered along the nerves throughout her body. A warm feeling of delight spread through her.
Morgandy made a complete survey of her naked man’s backside. It was easy to think of him as her
man. After all, he lay in her
pasture, and she didn’t see anyone else around to claim him.
She bit into the tips of her leather glove and snatched it off. Doing the same to the other, she stretched her fingers and touched one cheek of his firm rump. The smooth texture made her shiver with excitement. She squeezed the solidness, kneading until her gaze shifted. The delicious attribute, a focal point to her thoughts, left her mind delirious and void of better judgment. He’d not wake and catch her.
Her inspection had no bounds, no limits. From his superb bottom, she glided up his spine to the unyielding wings of his shoulder blades resting on planes of inflexible muscle. Brushing her palm over his silky back, she circled around to one of his thick biceps. Strength was in those arms. The kind of power to hold a woman he loved and crush anyone who would hurt her.
Morgandy conceded she had done her imaginary man a disservice. She had failed to give him the respect due the splendor she trembled before.
“I should see if you’re alive or not.”
She lifted her hair and put her ear against his smooth back. A shiver blazed beneath her skin as the scent of his musk-laden flesh spiraled into her nostrils. She inhaled every intoxicating morsel into her lungs.
“Your breathing is strong.” She sat up and shook her head. “So why do you just lie here?”
No visible marks of injury. She studied him for signs of harm, continuing her physical exam, while also taking the time to note every curve and contour of his physique. Her downward observance eventually landed back on the impressive area of his nakedness -- his rounded buttocks. A giggle almost slipped out when she slid her finger along the crevice.
She stopped at the bulge of his testicles wedged between his solid thighs. A warm blush heated her cheeks as she bit the inside of her lip and retreated from the most decadent of attractions. From her viewpoint, he had magnificent lines of masculinity in comparison to her dead husband’s rotund, potbellied form. With that thought in mind, she couldn’t leave the pinnacle of her curiosity unexamined. The intimate recess called to her.
Morgandy reentered the space between his legs and poked at his bulging scrotum. She pressed and rubbed the oddly textured flesh of her man, and her insides contracted as if there was an internal connection between them.
As his breathing increased, hers shortened. Gently withdrawing from his sensitive genitals, she stroked his shapely ass. The small gasps of air she took wheezed in and out of her in unmanageable bursts of excitement. When a moan hummed from the man, the sexual awareness she normally satisfied alone in her room intensified. Unable to retreat from the sensations stirring in the pit of her belly, she plied his flesh with firm, rhythmic squeezes. With unrelenting fondling, the next sound rumbled more loudly from his lips, heightening her arousal.
She began imagining his touch, his wonderful strokes finding all points of joy on her body. Biting her lip, shutting her eyes, she fingered her recesses until the last shuddering nerve had numbed from the titillation of what she imagined could be his handling. Her thighs started shaking as she delved more deeply into her thoughts. Every nuance derived from pumping her own finger into her sex brought her to a climax. Vibrations she enjoyed flowed throughout her body, tickling the responsive fibers of her being. Her grip clenched on the man’s ass and she dug her nails into his flesh until her internal trembling peaked.
The moment of release came and went too quickly. A trickle of wetness dampened her inner thighs, ending her fantasy. After a couple of deep breaths to relax, she resumed gazing and examining more of the man arousing her beyond decency. She found a beautiful appeal to the thought of fornicating with him. Maybe it was his lovely body or possibly his vulnerability. But whatever it was, she formed plans as to how she could make a dream come true. One sliver of happiness wasn’t too much to ask for in life.
The heat radiating from the man’s back attracted her. She bent even lower and brushed a light kiss against his sweet skin. With no one in sight to witness her enchanting situation, she grabbed his arm and rolled him over. As beautiful as his backside was, his front captivated her even more.
Morgandy’s gaze lingered on the manliest part of him -- his cock. It protruded from a nest of ebony hair. Long and thick, the stimulated erection tried to go limp as she watched. Once again, her insides contracted in a hurried pace much the same way as her breathing increased in momentum. Forcing her gaze away, she looked at the thatch of coarse curls sweeping to his groin. Short hairs sprinkled their way to the center of his abdomen, circling his navel, and making it another focal point. She continued along the path where the fibers fanned out over his chest. Swirls of black ringed his prominent nipples.
Her husband had given her nothing but glimpses of his body. Even then, the sight of him never had an appeal she wished to prolong. She didn’t know men came so notably handsome, and she appreciated his immobile slumber allowing her time for a leisurely perusal of every outstanding contour.
Wrenching her gaze from the inspection of his sleek torso, she stared at his beautiful face. His peaceful expression captivated her so much it took a full minute to notice the crusted spot of dried blood at his hairline.
She stood and looked around for a groundskeeper within shouting distance. The fields were lacking that morning. She had ridden far from Peregrine Manor, and at the distance she had traveled, she barely saw the stone walls of the structure. The house, covered in ivy hardly seemed out of place in the landscape. With a flock of sheep to the south, and a herd of cows to the north, the green pastures swept the wide countryside for miles in all directions.
She and the man were alone.