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AmélieChapter 27: The Stones Are Alive free porn video
[Late Autumn]
Oxford, Oxfordshire
ON A COLD and freezing night a few weeks later Mistress Heathcoate poured tea with care into each of three cups. The three women sat close to the fire. There had been snow flurries all afternoon. Wise men and those who thought themselves wise said the snow would continue through the night. Perhaps they were right. The winter solstice approached, a matter of days now.
Master Heathcoate was spending the evening at the closest tavern, his favorite, but his wife had little concern over his safe return. He’d made it hundreds of times in whatever state the end of the evening had left him without a single mishap. Tonight would be no different, she was as confident of that as she could be of anything.
When she finished pouring she sat back in her comfortable chair, the one she customarily used with its collection of throws and scarves to keep the sitter warm. Tonight only a few were needed after Sandrine had added several logs to the fire. They would be warm.
Mistress Heathcoate smiled. She knew where they had been that morning. This morning was not their first visit but she knew they had more questions about the experience. She’d already told them of the stories associated with the stones. She remembered too her own first visits to the stones, even before the one she had shared with the two women earlier in the autumn. Amélie and Sandrine looked at each other and Sandrine nodded. Amélie went first.
“Mistress Heathcoate, are the stones alive?”
Laughter answered her question, but it was kind laughter, at least the two young women took it so.
“Some say so, Mistress Amélie.” She chuckled. “But they are not. They are stones.”
“But—”
Mistress Heathcoate held up her palm to stop Amélie. “I know what you are going to say, dear. I’ve been to the stones. I know what you experienced.” Her expression was unfathomable, except that to Amélie’s eye it was tinged with longing and perhaps lust. “I’ve recounted to you some of the stories people tell about them.”
Mistress Heathcoate sighed. “Ah, to be young.” Sandrine and Amélie exchanged another look. “Tell me what the two of you found, first. Did Master Gérard accompany you?”
Amélie nodded but did not say anything.
The two young women squirmed and shifted in their seats. The casual observer would have been excused if he or she concluded they were afflicted with an itch, perhaps not entirely a physical one.
“The first thing I felt,” began Sandrine, “once more was how warm they were. Warm, but not soft, not really.” She paused. Licked her lips. “Not soft, no, but welcoming, caressing me, even.”
Amélie giggled. “Like the stone wanted to feel my nipples!” Sandrine poked her and Amélie poked her back. “I’m serious. You know I’m serious, Sandrine. You felt it too, didn’t you?” Sandrine nodded. “Just as I had done on my earlier visit I opened my stays and the stone seemed to approve. I don’t know how that happened, it sounds impossible, but it was as though the stones had fingers that found my nipples and rubbed them in exactly the right way.”
Sandrine nodded again. “I had the same experience, Mistress Heathcoate.” She looked at Amélie. “Like her, I opened my dress. I would have stripped off entirely had we been alone there. Stripped myself and pressed my body the length entirely against the stone. I wanted the stone to take me.” She laughed. “Or I would take the stone.”
“It was like a kiss, Mistress Heathcoate,” Amélie added.
Mistress Heathcoate nodded, her smile returned. “And what happened then?”
Sandrine and Amélie once more exchanged looks. Sandrine spoke. “I think you know, Mistress.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I died, of course, with my nipples hard against the stone, the stone tweaking them in some fashion and my center pressed as hard against the stone as I could.” She sighed. “Aye, I feel it yet again. I feel it in my face.”
Amélie nodded. “I died as well, Mistress Heathcoate.” She looked at her companion. “But how can that be, Mistress? What power does the stone have over us? Does it have the same power over men?” She knew the answer, of course, from their earlier visit with Gérard as well as this one.
“I may be brief to inform you the answer to both of your questions is ‘Yes’.” Mistress Heathcoate took another sip of her tea, found it cold, and made a face. “I shall return.” She returned to the kitchen and refilled the teapot with hot water from the stove.
“It happened the first time when Master Heathcoate and I were courting.” She chuckled. “Well, that’s not entirely true, but do not ever say anything to him. I let him believe it was the first time for me because, well, never mind.” She stopped all of a sudden and shook her head. “This is foolish. You know why I let him believe it was my first time. I recounted to you earlier what I said was my first visit to the stones with a friend.” The two younger women nodded. “It was not my only visit, nor was it even my first.” She smiled.
“In fact, I’d been there a year or two earlier with my two best friends, Caroline and Veronica. The three of us were escorted by Veronica’s brother, so there was nothing improper.” She smirked. “Nothing that anyone noticed, that is.” The freshened tea was ready by then, and Mistress Heathcoate served the three of them once more. Sandrine and Amélie took generous sips. The fire kept them warm, but the cold seemed to increase.
“It was Midsummer’s Eve, the solstice. There have been stories about the stones forever. I remember hearing them when I was little. As I and my friends got older the stories acquired greater detail and began to touch on areas very important to us. Our bodies, our feelings, what might we discover when we explored. I’m sure you understand.” Her interlocutors nodded. “In short, we experienced much the same as you. Caroline and I had separated ourselves from the music and the dancers almost without seeming to. As we walked, hand-in-hand, we came to the largest of the stones. I think you remember, no?” Once more the two nodded.
“I whispered to Caroline, ‘Shall we?’ She nodded. She knew what I was proposing. We’d heard the stories and we wanted to find out. I was tingling and trembling as I stepped close to the stone. The music was loud in my ears, it was as though it had wrapped me up somehow and I began to lose any sense that Caroline was beside me. What I felt was an attraction, a force that seemed to be binding me to the stone. Or at least pulling me to the stone.”
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