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The one thing more potent than her zesty juices that rained over my face to soak my dirty blonde locks, was the way she cussed.

There was something about the manner in which Minty swore that turned me on. When driven by desire alone, there was no pretence. No aristocratic role to fulfil. Nobody to impress except me, grinding her perfectly smooth, wet sex against my mouth as if pleasure was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Disturbed dust particles from the floor of the hayloft danced in the golden evening sun streaming through the wood battened frame behind her auburn tresses that swirled with each gyration. The halo gave her the appearance of an angel, though I knew she was everything but. Knew what profanity could tumble from those Cupid's bow lips. Knew how to make her scream my name.

Rhythmic visions of her dainty fingertips pinching and tweaking the bumps of her boobs came and went as she treated me to the electrifying mouth rodeo. As her actions intensified and thighs tensed against my head, a gasp followed. Then a single word, uttered with clarity that took my breath away.

"Fuck."

A perfect strut vowel, cut glass British, honed through years of elocution lessons to prepare her. To impress the dignitaries and diplomats and suitors that would one day kiss her hand as she curtseyed the way a Disney princess might. And I'd sullied the vowel. Driven her to surround it with consonants her parents would be horrified to hear pass her lips. Words reserved solely for me. Our dirty secret.

As I feasted on her fluttering folds, her shiny clitoris nestled against my nose, the floodgates truly opened. I could barely keep up, gulping buttery honey that drooled from her heavenly shaved slit, accompanied by hissed fragments of dirty posh. Every syllable made me adore her more.

"Yes, Lisa. Drink every drop."

She went on to implore me, like no future queen should, to lick her dripping cunt. So filthy. So decadent. My own juices leaked onto the patchwork blanket beneath us in response. When I sighed and squeezed my legs together, I seemed almost as drenched as her.

We writhed together as her words blurred, turning to staccato squeals that I knew I had to silence for fear of drawing unwanted attention. Though we had taken more risks over the months as we learned one another's bodies – hands lacing under the table at dinner, a stolen French kiss in the pantry that Chef nearly discovered – we still had to be careful. Any report from a curious employee and we would be ripped apart.

I dove my fingers down my body, curling inside, gasping against her at the sudden intrusion then brought them out, the glistening wetness beginning to cool instantly. I snaked them upwards, seeking her mouth, lips hungrily enclosing the pair of invading digits, muffling her moans around them.

She forced her pelvis down onto my face in a series of crushing rotations and froze as a long wail escaped to the rafters before she bit my fingers to quell it and sucked my juices from them, hard.

Although the pattern of her orgasm was familiar, it never ceased to excite me. A tightening of her body was the prelude, sinewy muscles clamping me, the only motion her quivering pussy lips jammed against my tongue, hidden to the outside world. Not even a breath escaped, as if she had become a plaster cast.

I loved how vulnerable she felt in that moment; when her garrulous self-assurance evaporated, and she was stripped bare. Naked. Raw. Poised. Chin dipped and totally mine, just for an instant.

If I had the composure I could probably count backwards from five before her burst of exhalation, but never did. I always savoured the calm, transfixed by the way her lips curled apart to reveal that sexy little gap between her front teeth, the fire in her eyes as intense as the first time I tasted her, barely months after her mother introduced us:

"Araminta, this is Lisa," she had said as the girl brought her chestnut mare to a whinnying standstill. "Our new stable hand."

The girl confidently swung her leg over the horse's back and hopped from the stirrup, unclipping her riding helmet and shaking out the longest mane of hair I had ever seen. I simply gawped at her beauty, a hollow nervousness carving out its presence in my belly.

Of course I had seen pictures of her in magazines, hair pinned, slender neck draped in diamonds worth more than a penthouse apartment with a view of the Thames. But in the flesh and without makeup, she was spellbinding. Petite, rakish yet achingly feminine, she strode confidently with a fluidity that would put a forest waterfall to shame, leading the horse by a delicate hand on its bridle.

I was always told I had pretty eyes but hers were like the centre of a chocolate liqueur. As she approached, my mouth dried and panic rose, terrified I would say something foolish and make an awful first impression. Instead, I bowed, which was probably worse. It made her giggle. She reached out as I straightened, a thrill coursing my spine at the brush of her skin, making me flush even redder.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lisa."

"Uhhh, you too, Araminta."

She seemed to glow within the smile, holding my gaze as she looped the reins over her horse's head and handed them to me. "You will take good care of Alexa, I am certain."

I blinked, and she either caught my train of thought or was used to the reaction, an impish grin flashing. "We bought her before Amazon ruined the name."

I nodded, embarrassed all the same, and gently tugged the reins. "Come on, Alexa," I sing-songed, adding a click of my tongue to make the universal 'giddy up' gesture. The mare stayed put and Araminta gave a wry smile.

"Get to know her first. Stroke her here." She demonstrated against the leathery skin of the horse's neck and I followed her instruction, the short hair bristling beneath my fingertips. "And to earn trust, let her smell you." She ran her palm to the horse's nose and I copied, letting the snuffling animal acquaint itself.

Our hands grazed once more and warmth flooded me. I had not crushed on a girl so quickly and so hard since Fran. And I had screwed that up royally by being too clingy. Like a ruddy clip-on koala she yelled as she stormed from the café and my life. I drew my hand away like Araminta was kettle steam and she cocked her head.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. I just…"

Her lips formed a smile I wanted to kiss forever, tongues taking turns to voyage into uncharted territory as our bodies met, lightly at first then firmer. God I wanted to run my fingers through her amazing hair. Take my time exploring. Finding every scrap of skin that made her shiver, that took her breath away. I shook my head and swallowed. She was royalty for goodness sake. Practically married to some Prince Charming with the most land, chosen by her parents. Imagine the scandal!

"Try again," she encouraged.

It took me a moment to come to my senses. "Of course. Come on, Alexa." I tugged the reins and the horse happily sauntered forward. Pleased, I called over my shoulder, "Thank you, Araminta."

She fell in step, leaning in close enough I could smell her exotic fragrance that was probably custom designed, her voice a whisper. "Call me Minty. Just not in front of mother."

Our eyes met and I nodded, parroting, "Minty," allowing the letters to roll from my mouth.

She slowed. "I need to shower. Will you be joining us for supper?"

"I- I am not sure."

"Then I shall make sure. Gerard will set you a place. Seven o'clock."

Before I had time to ask what I should wear, she had scampered off and I watched her shrink into the distance.

Leading Alexa into the tack room, I untacked and groomed her. She was spirited, but manageable and I was confident we would get along fine after a few sessions. Tucking her up for the evening with some fresh bedding, I headed back to my little cottage just outside the fringes of the Parr's sprawling estate. Technically it was Daddy's holiday cottage, but he let me use it since it was convenient until I earned the privilege of staying on-site.

I choked down a slice of buttered bread and contemplated my wardrobe. Googling what the elite wore to supper was little help. Nothing matched; too casual, too formal, too gymwear. I tried what felt like fifty outfits, eventually opting for the first: the light blue summer dress. Snug and chic, it clung to my frame, a hint of cleavage between which I hung a Pandora heart charm and dabbed some Liz Earle. Kitten heel sandals finished the look and I felt satisfied enough as I twirled in the mirror and let the dress settle around my bare legs.

Turns out I had chosen well. Araminta greeted me at the heavy door of the stately home in a flowing jade skirt and stripy camisole, a delicate cream cardigan to finish, hair piled up and pinned except for a few stray twists that framed her symmetrical features. She leaned in and gave me the French double-cheek kiss, at which I flushed, despite knowing it was a mere formality.

"Love that dress, Lisa! Who is it? Stella McCartney? Victoria Beckham?"

"Uhhh," I racked my brain. "Top Shop."

She paused then burst out laughing and stepped aside to let me enter. "You are so funny."

The hallway alone was probably the size of my cottage, all chequered marble flooring and flock wallpaper with canvas portraits flanking two curved staircases that led to an ornate balcony. Daddy had money thanks to his portfolio, but this was something else.

"Wow, Ara… Minty."

"Have you not seen the place?"

I shook my head. "Mrs. Parr conducted the interview in the summer house."

"Then I shall treat you to the tour later. But now," she slipped her hand in mine and dragged me left, "supper."

Her warmth made my heart flutter. I wanted her touch to mean so much more than the innocence with which it was intended. All through dinner around the oak table, amid bone china and strained conversation with her parents on topics way above my pay grade, I found myself drifting into daydreams involving Minty's flawless body against mine. Her lips sculling my skin as I stroked her flowing hair and urged her to explore. I am sure at least once she caught me staring at her lips, cocking her head and offering a soft smile. I quickly averted my gaze to the pheasant terrine.

At one point, greying Mr. Parr turned to me and coughed politely, wiping his mouth on a linen serviette. "So, Lisa, tell me. When did you become interested in horses?"

I cleared my throat behind my fingertips. "My parents bought me Jasmine for my ninth birthday."

"Ahhh, a fine gift." He twisted the tip of his silvery moustache into a point. "You still have her?"

I nodded. "I ride whenever I am not studying."

"Good. Good. What do you read?"

I blinked. "Mainly romance novels and poetry. But I love mysteries."

It was his turn to blink and my heart sank as I realised it was not the answer he was expecting. "My dear, I meant at university." His pronunciation of the final syllable was more teh then tee.

"Oh. I do not attend university yet. Next year perhaps, depending on my results."

"Really? I thought you were a trifle older than Araminta."

"No, sir." I blushed. "We are the same age."

"Jolly good. I trust you will get along famously. Araminta spends far too much time alone and needs the company for her social development. The last few farm girls have been frightfully below par."

"Father! Lisa is not a farm girl. She tends to the horses." She turned sharply to me with an apologetic eye roll.

Mr. Parr smoothed his moustache against his upper lip once more. "Quite."

Minty blew out in exasperation. "If you have finished insulting our staff, may we leave the table?"

Sir Richard gave a dismissive wave. "Certainly. I shall retire to the studeh. Keep the mischief down."

Minty stood, chair scraping back on the opulent tiles. "Come on Lisa, let me show you the house."

She grabbed my hand and I only just had time to toss my serviette onto the table before she whisked me from the dining room, back into the hallway, sweeping me up the stairs in the wake of her tantalising bottom that wiggled in the skirt.

Breathless, we stood overlooking the majestic hall. "Sorry about Father, he can be a little…" she tailed off.

"Traditional?"

A slow nod.

I touched her shoulder. "Never mind. I will be the best farm girl, I promise."

Her eyes slid to mine. "I have no doubt."

We stayed that way a beat before she backed away playfully and beckoned me to give chase.

And chase I did.

As the weeks progressed, Minty and I became firm friends. Baked muffins. Played chess. Watched movies and re-enacted scenes from them in the parlour, invariably ending up a giggling mess at her terrible attempt at American accents. We also took rides in and around the grounds and woods together, with me on Jasper, their hot-blooded Norman Cob.

I ached for Minty. Every touch of our skin, every lungful of air that carried wisps of her essence into my body, made me want her more. Pure lust. But I knew her situation. Her limits. The expectations of her role as future heir to the throne required my thoughts and desires remain locked away, despite how difficult it was to keep the lid on.

Hot days and hotter nights blurred as spring gave way to the yawning stretch of summer, fingers my only company in bed, dusting my skin as I imagined it was Minty's hair on my abdomen. Her breath condensing across my sensitive breasts and their crinkled, firm caps. Kissing my neck, trailing south as my libido ignited and legs parted to accept her eager exploration.

My fingers acted as surrogate, dipping inside moistening folds, sighs escaping as our imagined union filled every corner of my mind, wetness forming until it coated my digits and made my thighs sticky. Until I drove myself to clutching, gasping completion in the darkness, time and again, alone yet with her, yearning for far more.

She was naturally flirtatious with the young men in her parents' employ, and those that visited. I suspected her status helped wrap them all around her finger, always eager to impress. Yes Araminta, of course Araminta. Reduced to a mere observer, it made me mad – jealous – that I could see they were only after her power, even if she could not. But despite the coquetry, she remained professionally distant to them all. Daringly alluring, yet delicately aloof.

I wanted to be the only thing in her spotlight. To dazzle her. So many times I could have blurted out my feelings. So many times I stopped myself. I yearned to test the boundaries of our friendship but feared it would bring the walls crashing down, so I remained neutral and kept myself in check.

Until one afternoon.

We returned from a ride in the sun-kissed woods and she uncharacteristically stayed with me in the tack room as I tended to the horses, leaning back against the wall by the door. With riding helmet dangling in one hand by her thigh, she simply watched me.

I finished grooming the animals and began hanging the accessories, catching her eye. "We could do with some music while I work."

"Yes! I shall ask Jacob to run some electricity out here. He would do it if I asked nicely."

"He would do it if you were un-nice."

She grinned. "True."

I smiled back. "We can improvise in the meantime." I called over my shoulder, "Alexa, play Beethoven."

The horse snorted and stamped its foot.

I giggled. "Must be a remix."

Minty laughed. An effortless chuckle that made my heart soar.

I hung the remaining gear and held out the final item for her to take and stow on the hook by the split door. She reached for the riding crop and tugged it but I had the leather loop wrapped around my wrist, allowing her instead to drag me into her space.

"Oops," I whispered, my heart thumping so loud I feared she would hear it. She smelled amazing and our eyes locked, a little over a foot between us. I let the loop slither from my wrist and her hand dropped to her side, but she did not move away.

Tipping my head a little to one side, I smiled. "You have a twig in your hair."

I reached up and gently dislodged it, allowing the object to fall to the straw-strewn floor. But I kept my hand alongside her head, scooping a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. My heart jumped at the touch, goose bumps forming from the contact point, travelling up my arm and across my breasts.

My nipples firmed, breathing deepened and I murmured, "You are so beautiful, Minty."

Something registered in her eyes that I could not place. Excitement. Panic, perhaps. An involuntary shake of her head that could have meant no or please. Almost on autopilot I closed the distance to a few inches, drawing breath, mouth parting, the backs of our hands on one side skimming, and before I could stop myself, our lips connected. Tenderly at first, then I pressed slightly firmer and felt her mouth move against mine. Just a fraction. Warmth swelled in my body at her reciprocation but she twisted her face to one side and I pulled back, heart wrenching.

I just watched her processing the moment, a host of emotions crossing her pretty features until she spoke softly. "Lisa, we… we cannot."

I was quick to defend my actions. "Why not? I am afraid too."

She thought a moment, still staring at the floor to her left. "It is not proper. My family would disown me. And they would ruin you. It would not be fair."

Bristling, I flared louder than I expected. "God, Minty, live a little. Nothing is fair!"

Her eyes flicked to mine at the outburst, perhaps unused to people standing up to her. "Lisa, please. I know. But it is difficult. I have seen the way you look at me."

My anger abated almost as fast as it had risen. Reaching to her chin, I gently turned her to face me and shivered, pulse faster than Jasper's gallop, heart seemingly trying to escape through my throat. "You mean like this?"

Minty paused and nodded.

I drifted a fingertip up to her lips and traced their shape. Drew around the pouting circle that formed a sigh, hot against the pad of my fingertip.

"Oh, Lisa." She turned her face from my touch again and chewed her lip, deep in thought. "Fuck."

That was it. When she swore for the first time in my company, her defences down, was the moment I longed for her more than ever before. The moment I wanted our love to spark, marking the beginning of a beautiful romance. The same moment she fled from the tack room and I feared I had irreparably ruined our friendship.

I stared at her disappearing towards the mansion, not even looking back, and kicked the wall where she had been standing. It hurt, but nowhere near as much as the emptiness in my chest. Stupid. Stupid.

I moped in the tack room. Talked to Alexa as if she would understand, but all she gave me was a doleful horsey expression. As if she too was judging me for screwing up yet another relationship.

Eventually I steeled. Decided I had to face the consequences. Expected Minty to have already told her father to have me ejected from their employ. Prepared myself for the walk of shame down the driveway, never to return, to move on, reduced to only seeing her on television like everyone else.

Venturing into the house, numb, I headed for the front door, hand fully in contact with the latch before the cold of the metal jolted me. I stood there alone in the expansive hallway, contemplating. Knew I could not just walk away without at least apologising.

Turning back, I searched the ground floor. Not finding Minty in the kitchen or parlour I ascended the staircase, stretching endlessly upward, seemingly twice as many as usual. Turning right at the top, I followed the plush cream carpeted corridor until I found her door ajar. I took a deep breath and gave a gentle knock, pushing my way inside.

"Minty, I am sorry. I-"

Across the room beneath the large window, she was perched on the edge of her king size bed, head in hands. My heart flew to her and I lurched across the room after it, to stop a few feet from her, sinking to my knees.

"Oh God, Minty. Please do not cry. I did not mean to hurt you. I should… I should leave."

She sniffed and raised her head slowly, puffy eyes meeting mine. "No. Stay. Just…" she wiped her nose on the back of her hand. "Just hold me."

Stunned, I simply raised my eyebrows. She chewed her lip again and nodded, my stomach performing a backflip as I shuffled forward, arms outstretched to embrace her warmth, cheek to chest.

It felt so good, her heartbeat racing against my ear, syncopated with my own, her hand stroking my hair. She kissed the top of my head and whispered, "I do not know what to do. I have never felt so… conflicted."

Drawing back to my haunches to look up at her I offered a faint smile. "I meant what I said in the tack room. You are so beautiful, Minty." My voice faltered, then wobbled. "I have wanted to kiss you from the day we met."

She looked away, saying nothing, and I watched her a while, before bringing my hand to cup her cheek. "Do you like me?"

Her eyes darted to mine. Rested there, a world of discord passing behind them. "I… I think so."

I offered a disarming smile. "Do you trust me?"

Sliding my thumb around to her lips, I brushed them and pressed the digit forward, hooking just the tip between the gap and stroking her lower lip. She briefly caught the pad of my thumb between her lips.

"How long have you known? That you… like girls?"

I continued stroking her lip, slowly, deliberately from corner to corner, making us both shiver. "Long enough to be comfortable it is what I want."

She nibbled the pad of my thumb and a frown crossed her brow. "But how do you know that you like… me? That it is not some short-term infatuation? Or for my status, like the boys?"

Trailing my fingertip from her mouth, I traced her shoulder, down her arm and over the back of her hand, crossing the short distance to my own body where it joined the other in my lap. I watched her gaze follow their motion as they walked the material of my floral skirt up, dragging the fabric with them inch by inch, bunching at the top of my thighs.

I knew the moment my panties appeared to her gaze because her eyes widened. Knew the moment that the realisation hit, when her mouth dropped open.

"Because this is what you do to me." I drifted a hand to my knickers, the heat from beneath radiating, and rubbed the wet spot at which Minty was staring, feeling my fingertips moisten.

Bringing my hand into the space between us, holding it upturned, wetness glimmered in the fading glow of sunlight from the window. My eyes found hers. "A wise girl once said to earn trust, let her smell you." I remained motionless. "Do you trust me, Minty?"

She did not move for a long moment, then my heart skipped as she gazed into my eyes, took my hand in hers and brought it to her face, pausing before she inhaled.

Something again passed between us but this time it was laced with heat. A spark. A connection that made my spirits soar and my scalp tingle. While my fingers rested against her cheek I moved in and the soft kiss felt natural. Not of this world. A tender exploration, gentle at first, then firmer as passion overtook.

Her fingers caressed me through my clothes. Ten tiny digits, their summation magnified as we kissed, the start of our shared, clandestine journey into a bliss the likes of which I had never known. Learning more about one another day by day, I let her take pigeon steps, always mindful of not smothering her as she adapted to the idea of a Sapphic relationship; acting as reassuring guide.

As the summer rolled in, our expressions of love matched the elevating heat, progressing quickly from kissing and heavy petting to me partially undressing in front of her. Letting her admire my trim figure before she tentatively reached to stroke my hips, the electricity arcing up my spine and hardening nipples that her fingers sought beneath the bra.

Minty's touches were divine, leaving me breathless and wet for her. There were similarities that reminded me of my short journey with Fran, but wonderful differences; like a new toothbrush that feels better than the frayed one. The nights after our skin brushed, where kisses and nibbles caressed shoulders and necks and lips, hands cupping and squeezing soft flesh, I would return to the cottage and masturbate long and hard into the night, edging for as long as I possibly could to complete what we started in her bedroom.

Without doubt I was utterly besotted with Minty, even before she arranged for me to move on-site and our lovemaking took another step up. When she made me stand fully clothed by the door to watch her striptease, item by delicate item without revealing chest or pussy to my hungry stare, I was a quivering wreck. My pulse raced as she sat on the edge of her bed, alluring and simply delectable, her teasing modesty intact beneath hair long enough to sweep over breasts and drape between her legs.

When her eyes bore into mine and I noticed her thighs parting in slow motion, hands lifting and separating her hair like a stage curtain, I tore to kneel before her for the grand opening.

She was a sight. A light fuzz adorned her mons that led to the awakening furrow that she touched and rubbed for my pleasure. I was mesmerised while she masturbated, wings steadily unfolding to reveal her glistening pearl as I was treated to the gradual climb to her peak, learning how she liked to be touched. Every shiver, sigh and caress had me captivated until her elevating gasps crawled inside my head and made a home there.

The next night I returned the favour. The breath caught in her throat when I revealed my shaved slit and as the slick juices coated each pore, I encouraged her to touch me. Minty's fingertips exploring my wetness brought me off fast and hard, and she fed them to me afterwards. I adore the taste of myself on my lover, the effect stronger because Minty was utterly enamoured with my body. So much, she insisted the next night make mine like yours, producing a razor and her father's shaving foam.

With tender strokes, warm water and a washcloth, I removed every trace of hair, from mons, labia and even into the crack of her pert behind. As I washed away the remnants of foam I sighed, "You look good enough to eat."

I shall never forget the look in her eye and the way her voice caught when she told me, "It is all yours." Nor will I ever forget that first touch of her fragrant pussy against my lips. The sweet scent that enveloped me as I drove her higher. The little tremble in her left thigh that preceded her orgasm. And the way she froze and wailed as she came, exactly as she was doing above me in the hayloft.

With a deep exhalation that set off my own shiver, from the fingertips in her mouth to my toes, her whole body reanimated as the orgasm ripped through her twitching frame. I drew out my fingers, wet from a combination of her saliva and my juices, tracing the tiny beauty spot I loved to kiss on her left cheek, then down her neck, chest, belly and hips, my heart thudding at the glimmering trail in their wake.

Bringing my hands to rest on her hips, I opened my mouth and gazed up at her whole body vibrating as she drew desperate breaths to fuel the delicious flood that squirted across my lips. Two distinct gushes between the panting groans fired into my mouth and I savoured the precious elixir that she shared. She tasted like no single flavour on Earth. Cream soda and sandalwood and citrus, raw and earthy and sweet in a combination that made me melt.

Just like always, I waited for Minty to regain her senses, drift back to sit on my chest and slide her caramel eyes to mine. To let her take in the depraved vision of my face a slick mess, and of her come pooled at the back of my throat as she idly stroked and squeezed her boobs. I made a show of tilting my head to let a little dribble from the side of my mouth and scooped it back in with a fingertip that I then let her taste.

Minty's eyes sparkled when I swallowed her creamy flow, feeling it slither down my throat, smooth yet fiery as if made from the same liqueur that filled her eyes. Her hands dropped from her tits and crept behind her to caress my midriff. Goosebumps formed on my skin and she mouthed I love you before leaning back, sliding her hands further down my body, inch by inch igniting fires that were already alight just beneath the surface.

Long hair brushed my belly as her hands reached my hips, thighs, then swung inward. I parted my legs, the sound of my petals separating making a sticky smack in the silence. Her fingers found home, plunging into my dripping snatch as I bucked beneath her. She curled the tips up against the front wall, making me suck air in through my teeth.

"God, Minty, yes."

She massaged the spongy nerve endings and I writhed, already teetering on the cusp of orgasm from the excitement of witnessing hers. She stopped and I groaned, eyes flashing to see her grinning down at me. "Oh sorry. Did Lisa want to come?" She squeezed my groin between fingers and palm and I squirmed.

"You know I do," I hissed.

"Then say it."

"Seriously? You want me to beg?"

She giggled. "Yes. I am your ruler after all. You could at least act like a loyal subject."

I smacked her bottom. "Cheeky. You are not Queen yet." She remained motionless and arched her eyebrows. Waiting. I let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. Minty, your royal highness, please make me come, like only you know how. Make me squirt for you. Soak your fingers so I can watch you suck my juices from them." She wiggled her digits inside me and I gasped as my core tightened, finishing off with a breathy, "Please."

Minty flashed me a dirty, toothy grin and dug her fingers up inside me, over and over. No ceremony, no further build up. She knew I was close. I clawed at the wooden slats either side of the blanket and jerked as shockwaves built, each greater than the last, radiating from my abdomen to flush the surface of my perspiring skin. Groans filled the airless space and I did not realise they were mine until she slid her drenched pussy up to cover my mouth and muffle them.

"Hush," she urged. Our eyes locked and she whispered. "Come for me. Come hard, my love."

The intoxicating scent of her recent orgasm filled my nostrils and as her fingertips raked against my most sensitive inner space, I felt the tingling urge to pee that presaged the onset of my own climax. Everything started to shut down in my body to let me focus on the singular experience. The heat. The wetness. The flight, as my mind danced impossible colours that I could almost taste and I became lost in the kaleidoscope, neither here nor anywhere.

Clamping her sweet cunt over my mouth, she absorbed my screams as I let the waves overtake me, flooding her palm, wrist and the blanket, my insides knotting and releasing in what seemed an endless rhythm.

I drifted and bobbed in the aftermath, time elastic until my body slumped, spent to the blanket and Minty climbed from me. She snuggled alongside and we cuddled face to face, the long fingers of sunlight streaking through the sex-fuelled miasma to strike the far wall.

She smoothed away a few strands of blonde that clung to my forehead and we kissed, long, lazy and carefree, tongues gently duelling. I felt simultaneously whole and hollow. The physical manifestation of our love filled me to bursting and I wanted to spend every waking moment in her embrace. The nagging reality at the back of my head told me our love could not withstand the societal and familial pressures of modern day Britain.

Despite vacuous and frankly duplicitous promises of equality and rights in the media, a Royal union was one man and one woman. Steeped in centuries of tradition, nothing else could be entertained. It riled me and I wanted to scream at how unfair the world was, but knew it would not change a thing. We had to fully experience now. There was nothing else.

I think we both knew it, and were perhaps in denial, but the mind-blowing sex and raging hormones of our teenage bodies swamped rational thought. We were on top of the world, elated to be together, to live and breathe, explore our desires and treat every stolen moment as a gift; a little fuck you to the bourgeois that would one day try to suppress our love.

As twilight surfaced and our combined heat dwindled, we rose. I fetched our clothes tucked behind a hay bale near the foot of the ladder where we carved our initials inside a heart. Minty had stripped and insisted I do the same, giggling as she teasingly wiggled her way up to the loft while I simply drooled at her swaying rump before chasing after her.

We dressed quickly, still fizzing from the orgasms, then dashed from the barn and tore across the fields, laughing, hand-in-hand until we were within sight of the main house. From there we ran separately upstairs. I caught up and dared to shove her against the wall, kissing her breathlessly alongside her bedroom door, the smell of sex strong between us.

She slithered from my grasp and backed into her room, door remaining open a pinch.

"Lisa," she whispered through the gap. "Return when everyone is asleep. My bed will be warm."

The door clicked shut and I spun, back against the wall, a huge grin on my face before racing to my room, wired, alive and excited, desperate for our next stolen moment together.