"Eight Pools"
A Letter to My Husband
He’d told me that it was to rain, soon. Although I do not recognize the man, I still bear in mind his face well. The one-time timer obviously hadn’t aged well, as his facial hair was shaggy and tangled in places. His tackle had been somewhat distraught, when he’d told me this, as well. It wasn’t uncommon in this day of the week and age to find someone who was so.
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T’was the day of our Member Of The Aristocracy, 1695. I was currently taking up residence in the Massachusetts Bay Colony, who had just grown in amount after the concentration of the Plymouth Colony, some four being prior. The Contemporary World was in a state of loss, left in shambles by a come to of madmen who’d permissible their own prejudices and paranoia to ruin their sense of self-reason.
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My name is Richard LeBair, and I was but little more than a weary trekker, although a well-known doubting Thomas, in those tricky times.
Word of witches and devils had traveled the countryside be fond of the plague, feat even back to Tend England, herself. I’d not traveled to a release village that prostitutes and whores had not found themselves accused of the black arts, or some other damned phenomenon.
On the appointment in question, October 30th, I’d found for myself in a minor pub, enjoying a perceptive ale for the eve. How is my favorite bar patron?" A man’s accent rang out. T’was Jonathon Paisley, a male that I’d ostracized for years, out to oversee the preparations of the Return Festival.
I watched as he trotted up, as pompous as ever, followed, be fond of usual, by Member Of The Clergy Kimbell.
"Good Eve, Jonathon. Father. I would’ve thought that with all the conference of witches and goblins, that the festival would’ve indeed been cancelled, this spice." I smirked, reasonably snobbishly.
Father Kimbell frowned at my disbelief, but remained silent. I could suspect Paisley smiling down at me. How smug.
"Now, now, Mr. LeBair. You should show more respect in sight of new events. A hasty resolution can often become a costly one." He teased, observably amused by my drunken disorder.
"Yeah, right. Witches and Werewolves are minor more than nonsense. Stories that are told to minor boys and girls to kind them behave. Father Kimbell didn’t seem to carve up my amusement with the exchange.
"Well, whatever, whatever." The old fart asked me, before throwing an appendage over my shoulder. He knew I couldn’t be on your feet when he touched me.
"I’m afraid not. "Perhaps next year. Now, if you will, I must be caption back to my mother country for the eve."
"Be weary, Mr. LeBair. Was that meant as a intimidation, or a pleasure?
--
I’d entered an alleyway, where the colony’s unsurpassed whores could always be found. Hidden amongst the dim stone of the buildings, I walked down the line of whores, looking for the one auspicious enough to waste the night with me." A vaguely overweight and misshapen excuse for a whore asked, from a close at hand corner of the lane.
"Oh, dear Divinity, no. Get away from me, you sow.
"Fine, then, bendy dick. You wouldn’t recognize class if you saying it." She wretched, and returned to her nest." I muttered, critical on.
As I rounded the curve, I thought I’d seen everything that the lane had to put forward me. Where there had been a number of whores, there were now none. This was when she’d fixed my eye. Her clothing was not that of a noblewoman, though. Her eyes met mine, and the bind in my stomach seemed to wither.
"Hello, there, Sir." Her gentle melodic voice pierced through the silence, followed by a sweet-tempered smile that could melt any man’s sensitivity. "Can I interest you in my armed forces?"
Dear, Aristocrat. Cat got your tongue, love?" She giggled, before approaching me.
"Y-Yes. I mean, no. How much?
Silent, she bunged the gap between us, and pursed her lips together, in a glower. Her hand rested upon my chest, then little by little moved to tidy my collar." She smiled, again, and I felt weak. "Cheap." She thought in my ear, before kissing my collar, softly.
--
I’d followed her to a position she’d already obtained. Why a woman this beautiful, and observably this rich, would be advertising her body on the streets was beyond me, but I’d well-read long ago not to query things that were in my bolster.
Slowly, and full of loveliness, she almost hovered in her ramble to the second-story gap, overlooking the occupied street of the colony.
"Hallow’s Eve." She understood, as she opened the dialogue box and looked down at the streets, below."
I can’t in the region of that I completely focused on her language, as much as I did the beauty and sophistication of her voice. I’d never seen a whore with such benevolence and passion before, and if you asked me now, I’d bet that she sensed that.
"Come here." She called to me, without looking in my leadership. Slowly, I approached her.
Silently, her hands lifted to her have control over, undoing the carefully-made bun that her hair was in. To my bolt from the blue, she never bowed to me, but just began to undress. Within moments, the sleek fabrics that made her dress had fallen from her bulk, leaving her unclothed and petite build exposed, before me.
"Many of the inhabit are still in alarm, believing that tomorrow dark will bring genuine witches and ghosts to meander our countryside. Slowly, she turned to me, and once again, I felt her eyes peering into mine. "Do you consider that, Sir?"
It took me a moment, to answer.
"No, love, I do not."
This seemed to occupy her, slightly, which confused me. Carefully, her hands motivated about my quantity, loosening my clothes. Her smile remained, as she freed me from my bindings, allowing my erect manhood to jump forth. Her hands rested upon my naked chest, and she smiled up at me.
"What if I thought I was a witch?" She grinned, grazing the tips of her nails across my flesh. I couldn’t aid but smile at her terminology. "And what if I told you…" Her hands trailed down my stomach before wrapping around the shank of my engorged sex. "…that this was my magic wand?"
Her restful hands tightened their grip around it’s bar, as she sank to her knees. I gasped for express, as her opening opened and took the full length of my raise into it. Her eyes stared up at me with the craving of an subconscious, as her rule slowly moved back and into the world, swallowing it whole.
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