From: lex@ucscb.UCSC.EDU (The Cruel Puppet)
Newsgroups: alt.sex
Subject: Re: A story "When She Was Seventeen
Summary: Here it is again.....
Message-ID: <6292@portia.Stanford.EDU>
Date: 1 Nov 89 08:21:48 GMT
References: <23188@cup.portal.com> <244000032@prism>
Sender: USENET News System <news@Portia.stanford.edu>
Reply-To: lex@ucscb.UCSC.EDU (The Cruel Puppet)
Organization: The Man with the "Four-way" hips
Lines: 463
Posted: Wed Nov  1 09:21:48 1989



In article <244000032@prism> chw@prism.TMC.COM writes:
>
>
>    I too would like to read this.  Can someone please re-post it?

                      
                     When She Was Seventeen....       

                          by Char Walker
                        copyright May, 1989
 
 
     The old woman sat drowsing in a patch of morning sunshine,
her black widow's garb drawing the sun's warmth and wrapping it
all around her body.  She was not really sleeping, there in the
sun, but was so lost in old dreams and memories that the present
had ceased to matter.  She could smell the sweetness of spring,
and in her mind she was back in a time when her body too
possessed all that sweet promise of ripeness, of fulfillment.
     And in her mind she saw Tevya as the young man she first
knew in the springtime of her life . . . Tevya with the dark eyes
of a poet . . .
 
     "Sofia, I want you and your sisters to take the oxen down to
the river and scrub them thoroughly.  The buyers will be here
tomorrow, and I want nothing to go wrong with the sale."  Feodor
Mendrayovich spoke with a gruff voice, but the whole village, and
most especially his family, knew him to be the gentlest and
kindest man in all the Ukraine. . . The sound of a man's voice,
they said, was no way to measure the goodness that was in his
heart.
     "But, Poppa!" Anya protested quietly, "Momma said I was to
help her with the sewing today!  She is showing me how to finish
the embroidery on my cap.  And maybe when I finish it, I can
start on a new vest for you."  She looked up at her father with
pleading in her eyes.
     "It's all right, Poppa," Sofia spoke up before her father
could respond.  "Kati and I can manage just fine by ourselves,
can't we?"
     Kati just nodded, her eyes shining with excitement.  She
loved the prospect of having her oldest sister all to herself.
And to go to the river, too!  This was an even better treat.
     It was no surprise to Feodor that Anya wanted to stay, while
Sofia was more than willing to go.  The two were as different as
the seasons.  Anya was quiet and shy, steady like a glowing
hearthfire in mid-winter, while Sofia was a child of nature,
passionate as a summer storm, and warm as the sun.  And little
Kati?  It was too soon to tell what kind of woman his little Kati
would turn out to be.
     "Come on, Kati," Sofia said as she headed up the stairs, "no
sense in wearing good clothes for scrubbing the oxen.  Let's see
if there's anything in the rag basket whole enough to wear."
 
     A short time later Feodor watched his daughters, both
dressed in his old, worn out white shirts--Kati's long enough to
be a dress, but Sofia's tucked into a much patched, and faded red
skirt--herd four placid oxen down the path toward the river.
Kati was riding on the shoulders of one of the lead animals,
while Sofia walked barefoot alongside, a long willow switch
hanging idle in her hand.
 
     Although it was only the end of May, already the sun was hot
and the water in the river was warm enough for bathing, not that
the oxen would care.  But the two charged with the task of
washing them did care, and feeling the pleasantly cool water
soaking through their clothing just added to their enjoyment of
the day.
 
     "Kati, do you see that wagon, up there where the river
curves?"  Sofia asked as she poured water over the broad back of
one of the animals.
     Kati straightened up, and, shielding her eyes with a
dripping hand, peered upriver where strong winter floods had
eroded away the shoreline, leaving a high overhanging embankment.
There was a wagon parked up there, and a horse was tethered
nearby--both a short distance from the edge of the overhang.
     "It looks like a peddler's wagon." she said.  "But I don't
see the peddler."
     "Look . . . there in the tall grasses at the very edge of
the embankment . . . see that dark, flat spot?  I think he's up
there, watching us.  Why don't we wave at him, and let him know
that we know what he's up to?"  Sofia asked, a little devil of
mischief in her smile.
     Kati turned to look at Sofia, her impish grin matching the
one on her sister's face.  But before they could hatch their
plan, they were startled by the sounds of tearing roots, and the
splashes of things hitting the water.
     Looking quickly upriver to the source of the sounds, they
were amazed to see the dark clothed body of a man, his arms
windmilling and his legs frantically trying to run, falling
through the air along with remains of the overhanging riverbank.
     "Help!  I can't swim!  Help!"  The words reached them as
they watched the man plunge, feet first, into the river.
     "Quick, Kati, run and get Poppa!  I'm going to see if I can
reach him!"  Kati darted out of the water, up the hilly path and
out of sight.
     Sofia launched herself into deeper water, and began swimming
strongly upstream.  She could see the man's arms flailing the
water about 100 yards ahead of her.
     Suddenly he disappeared from sight, sucked under by the
current.  Sofia was thankful that she was wearing only a shirt
and skirt--her usual petticoats would have hampered her efforts
severely.
     She looked around for some sign of the man.  He bobbed to
the surface about 50 yards ahead.
     He saw her, and started yelling and waving his arms--and
promptly went under again.
     "Fool!" Sofia thought as she swam as fast as she could to
where she had seen him last.  With the help of the current
carrying him along, she reached him as he rose to the surface
again.
     Treading water, she hurriedly checked to see if he was still
breathing--his eyes were shut--she couldn't tell.  Grabbing him
by the back of his jacket collar, Sofia towed him towards the
shore, the first few yards a hard struggle as she tried to break
free of the river's current.
     Finally she reached the shallows and swam as far as the
water would allow.  She pulled herself up into a sitting position
with her swimming arm, and with a last, exhausted effort dragged
the man's limp body up across her legs and onto her lap.
     For the first minute all she could do was cradle him in
against her body, and, panting, try to regain her breath.  She
didn't even have the energy to see if he was still alive.  And in
her exhausted state, she didn't realize that he might not be able
to breathe, so closely was she pressing his face against her
breast.
     A lightning flare of intense sensation swept through her
body as she felt a warm insistent pulling on her cold-hardened
nipple.  She stared, wide-eyed, at the man who was sucking at her
breast through the thin, transparent cloth of the old shirt, each
contraction of his bearded cheek sending waves of cold fire
through her--cold that changed to heat when it reached her core,
igniting in her such a sweet, sexual ache as she had never felt
before.  None of her experiences with the local boys had ever
stirred her as deeply, as intensely, as this.
     The man became aware of her staring regard and released his
hold on her breast.  A small, involuntary 'oh' of regret
whispered from Sofia when he did this.
     He turned his head to look full in her face--just inches
away from his own.  His dark eyes gazed directly into hers as he
solemnly asked, "Are you an angel?"
     Before she could summon the presence of mind to answer him,
Sofia heard the running footsteps of her father and Kati coming
towards them.
     "He's alive!  Poppa, he's alive!" she shouted joyfully at
them.  At once her father slowed his headlong run down to a walk,
but Kati raced on, not slowing until she joined them at the
water's edge.
     The young man struggled to his feet, and took a few shaky
steps up onto the shore.  Sofia arose swiftly and, with Kati,
stood close by in case he should fall.  He swayed a bit, but was
steady enough to turn and extend his hand to Sofia.
     "Thank you for saving my life."  he said gravely, his dark
eyes once again looking deeply into hers.  "Without you I would
surely have drowned."
     Sofia took his hand, feeling a little thrill of excitement
run through her when she touched him.  But she was again at a
loss for a reply.  What do you say when a man thanks you for his
life?  Especially this one who had, with only the pull of his
mouth on her breast, created such an intense sexual longing in
her.  'You're welcome' was much too inadequate.
     Her father's arrival broke the frozen moment.  The young man
tried to stand without swaying, as he straightened his shoulders,
and extended his hand in greeting to Feodor.
     "Sir.  My name is Tevya, the Peddler."  The two men shook
hands.  Tevya continued speaking as he turned to look at Sofia,
"Your beautiful daughter has, . . ."  his voice faltered as their
eyes met, ". . . has just saved my life."  Sofia dropped her
eyes, and was mortified to feel a blush start to warm her cheeks.
She never blushed!
     All too aware of the sudden, uncomfortable silence, the
young man nervously started talking again to Feodor.  "As you can
see, I'm not a terribly good peddler, my clothes are old, and I
usually don't have enough to eat.  That's why I'm so thin . . . I
keep on using my earnings to buy books and forget to buy food."
     He rattled on, speaking faster and faster.  "But I do have a
sturdy wagon to live in, and a good horse to pull it."  He
gestured with a jerky movement of his arm to point out to Feodor
his small camp just up the hill.
     "She's a good horse, a faithful companion on the road . . .
I would be so lonely without her to talk to . . ."  Once again
his voice faded, but this time it was because he was starting to
crumple into a dead faint at Feodor's feet.  "I . . . uh . . ."
     Feodor caught him just as he lost consciousness.  He lifted
Tevya into his arms as if the man weighed no more than Kati.
     "You girls go round up the oxen and take them back home.
I'll carry our young friend up to his 'sturdy wagon'!"  Feodor
started up the gently sloping hillside.
     "No, Poppa, wait!  I'm going with you." Sofia said.  "I want
to make sure he's going to be all right"
     One look at her determined expression and Feodor knew it
would be useless to argue.  Sofia could be very, very stubborn
once she had decided to do something.  He sighed.
     "All right, you can spend a little time to fix him something
hot to drink, and to make sure he doesn't take a chill.  But I'm
the one who will put him to bed!  And you are to return home in
time for supper!"  His stern, paternal gaze fell on Sofia's
meekly lowered head.  He knew that the meekness was a pretense
meant to mollify him, but he also knew that he could trust her
good common sense to keep her out of any real trouble.
     "Kati," Feodor called back over his shoulder, "round up the
animals.  I'll be back in a few minutes and we will take them
home together."
     Feodor and Sofia set out up the hill with Tevya still
unconscious in Feodor's arms.
     The inside of Tevya's wagon was just as Feodor had expected-
-walls lined with books, the one lone chair piled with papers and
more books.  The only clear space was the bed, and it was
surprisingly well made--the covers turned back to reveal clean,
fresh sheets topped by two soft wool blankets.
     Feodor gently lowered Tevya onto the bed, and deftly removed
his boots and garments--piling the wet clothing on the floor.
And, though he searched every possible storage place, he couldn't
find anything resembling a nightshirt, so he finally just pulled
the blankets and top sheet from under the man's body, and tucked
them back over him as if Tevya were a sleepy child he was putting
to bed.
     "You don't look much older than my children," Feodor mused
as he looked at Tevya's face.  "That brave beard wouldn't fool a
blind man!  How come such an intelligent young man like you has
to make his living as a peddler?  Maybe you'll tell us when you
wake up."
     With that Feodor left the wagon and joined Sofia outside by
the fire.
     "He must have intended to come home soon," she said.  "He
left a kettle of water in the bed of coals to stay hot.  I found
a small box of tea in his larder, and a teapot and a cup . . .
but Poppa," she looked at her father with concern, "I didn't find
any food except these bread crusts, this little bit of cheese,
and some honey in the bottom of a jar."
     "You'll never know what he was planning to do before his
unexpected bath in the river." Feodor answered.  "Maybe he was
going to come to our farm to trade for food.  It doesn't matter
now, anyway."
     "No I guess not." she agreed.
     "Well, I had best get Kati and go on home and reassure your
Mother and Anya that you didn't drown.  Kati wasn't any too clear
about exactly who it was who had fallen into the river and was
going to drown."  Feodor smiled ruefully at Sofia and headed back
down the hill.
     Sofia checked the teapot again, and decided the tea had
steeped long enough.  She poured some into the cup, added a
little honey, and carried the hot cup carefully over to the
wagon.  She knocked lightly on the door to announce her entry,
but didn't wait for a reply--she didn't know if he had even
awakened yet.
     The wagon was dark after the bright sunshine, and she stood
a moment after closing the door, waiting for her eyes to adjust.
     "Is . . . is that you, my b-beautiful angel?"  Tevya's voice
came softly to her ears.  "You do-don't n-need . . . need to fuh-
feel af-fraid."  His voice was shaking.  "At the mo-moment I ca-
can't do mo-more than l-lie here and sh-shiver."
     "Oh, Tevya!  Here . . . I've brought you some hot, sweet
tea."  Sofia moved over to the side of the bed.  "Drink this and
soon you'll feel much better."
     He brought one arm out from under the covers, but his hand
was shaking so badly that she hesitated to give him the cup,
afraid that he would spill the tea all over himself before he had
a chance to drink any of it.
     "H-here . . . l-let me try wi-with b-both hands."  Another
long-fingered hand reached out for the cup.  She put it in his
hands, but quickly put her hands back over his to steady them as
another fit of shivering seized him and threatened to spill the
tea all over the bed.  She took the cup from him, and he quickly
put his arms back under the covers and wrapped his arms around
his shaking body.
     "Maybe I should hold the cup while you sip." she decided.
"But I can't very well do that without sitting on the bed.  And I
don't want to get the bed wet by sitting on it in my wet
clothes."  She looked around for something to solve her little
dilemma.
     "Have you any other clothes besides the ones you were
wearing?"
     "N-no."
     "Are there any more sheets."
     "N-no."
     "Do you have any towels?"
     "I'm-m s-sorry, n-no."  He seemed rather dejected that he
had none of the things she had asked for.
     Sofia was getting exasperated.  The tea was starting to
cool, and she still hadn't managed to get any of it's warmth into
him.  Well, she did know one way to manage it . . .
     "Ok, keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them!"
     "I w-will.  B-but what are y-you d-doing?"
     "Never mind . . . you'll know soon enough."  She put the cup
of tea on the floor within reach of the bed, quickly took her
clothes off, and climbed into bed, carefully tucking the covers
chastely around her.
     He felt her movement, but didn't question her again and
waited, patiently, eyes closed, his whole body shivering
uncontrollably.
     She sat up, and reached over to retrieve the tea.  She made
sure that the covers were being held in place under her arms, and
only then told him he could open his eyes.
     His expression on seeing her was one of shock.  "B-but if
you f-father c-comes in, he'll k-kill me!"
     "Just hush." Sofia ordered.  "My father isn't going to come
in, he's already home by now.  Here, let me raise your head up a
bit, and have you drink some of this tea."  She cradled his head
against her upper arm, and held the cup for him to drink.  He was
so close that she could see each separate, dark eyelash, and the
little laugh lines at the edges of his eyes.  For just a moment
she rested her cheek lightly against his hair.  He didn't seem to
mind her touch.
 
     "More?"
     "Yes, please."
     "What's your name?  I can't keep calling you 'my beautiful
angel'."
     "No, I suppose not.  My name is Sofia."
     "Sofia . . . so soft, so lovely, Sofia."
     "More tea?"
     "Er . . . yes, please."
 
     Even after he had finished drinking the tea, neither one
moved.  It feels so right to hold him in my arms like this, Sofia
thought.
     Suddenly she felt his body shake with another fit of
shivering.  "Are you all right," she asked with concern.
     "I'm-m f-fine, I j-just c-can't s-seem to s-stay w-warm."
     "Stay still, I have an idea."  Sofia untucked the covers
from around her, and moved her body up against his.  His skin was
very, very cold against hers.  She hoped her idea would work,
because she couldn't think of anything else.
     "Here, turn towards me, and let me hold you close.  Yes,
that's the idea."  She felt him resist ever so briefly when she
first started, but after looking a brief question into her eyes,
and seeing her reassuring smile, he breathed a shivering sigh and
cuddled into her warmth.
     She put one arm under his head, and tucked his face up
against her neck, while holding him close to her with her other
arm.  She moved her hips close to his, and held him to her with
her thigh.  She breathed a sigh of her own, and relaxed back into
the pillows.
 
     She must have drifted to sleep for a moment, because when
she awoke, Tevya was no longer shivering.  He was softly, slowly
kissing her neck and shoulder.  His left hand no longer hugged
his cold body, but was moving in light, drifting strokes over her
breasts, circling up to tease her hardening nipples, and then
sliding away again.
     He felt her awaken, and leaned back to look in her eyes--his
were so dark they almost looked black.  She fell into them and
was instantly swept up in a passionate response to his touch.  He
moved up a little in the bed until their heads were level.
     His hand glided down the slope of her breast and up along
the line of her throat.  Softly he traced along her jaw, and the
curve of her lips.  Her mouth yearned for his kiss, and her eyes
told him so.
     He lowered his mouth onto hers and she opened to welcome
him.  His hand returned to caress her breast and she arched her
body against his, pushing her nipple against his hand.  Her thigh
which had lain so innocently atop his, now drew his lower body
closer to her.  She felt the hard urgency of his penis thrust
against her belly.
     The long first kiss broke, and their lips explored and
learned the contours of each other's faces until they could no
longer stand the separation of their mouths.  And they kissed
again, as if to fuse their passion by this meeting alone.
 
     She shifted until she was under him, her hands dancing
across his back, her breath quickening with her pulse.  Her body
began to rock underneath his.
     He broke the kiss abruptly, and tried to regain enough
control to speak coherently, pushing up with his arms to rise
slightly up and away from her.
     "Sofia!  Sofia, please stop!  Do you know what you are
doing?  What we are doing?"
     She pulled his body back against hers.
     "Tevya, I know what we are doing and what we are doing is
right!"  She kissed him, teasing his tongue with her own, telling
him without words that his passion was matched by hers.
     She slipped her right hand down his side, and slid it
between their bodies until she was touching the warm hardness of
his penis.  He groaned deep in his throat at her touch.  The skin
was so soft, so smooth--softer than her own.  She trailed her
fingers down and up the shaft, pausing to moisten them at the
top, before sliding them down again.  Her body again started
rocking up against his and she pulled her hand away from its
teasing dance, not wanting to feel anything but his body moving
on hers.
     Her hands started caressing his wonderfully rounded behind,
kneading the soft roundness, and urging him to get closer,
closer, to join his body with hers.
     He broke the kiss again, but this time he didn't speak
words.  With his hand cupping her breast from beneath, holding
her up and ready for him, his mouth sucked her nipple with greedy
hunger.  She moaned . . . lost in sensation . . .
     His other hand started pulling and teasing at her other
breast, squeezing the hardened nipple in rhythm with the sucking
pressure of his mouth.  She arched under him, trying to fit him
inside her . . . trying to assuage the aching itch that was
tormenting her inside.
 
     "Please, please . . . I want you in me . . ."
     How could he refuse such a request?
 
     Supporting himself on one arm, he cupped her mound with his
hand, squeezing gently once . . . twice.  He then parted the lips
with a finger, and stroked downward across her clitoris to the
slippery opening of her vagina.  She groaned and pushed herself
up against his hand.  He inserted his finger to collect a little
fluid, and repeated the downward journey.  She again arched her
back and thrust herself up into his hand . . . her face was
turned to the side--buried into the pillow's softness . . . her
look one of lost abandon.  Once again he sucked her nipple into
his mouth, while his finger rubbed her hardened clitoris.
     Sofia was drowning in sensation.  Never had she been so lost
to a man's touch . . . never had she felt such a need for
completion!
     She looked at him, there at her breast.  He sensed her gaze,
and lifted his eyes to her.  All of her longing, all of her
passion was written on her face, in her eyes.  His mouth released
her breast, his hand stopped its torment on her clitoris.  He
positioned himself over her, and she guided him into her warm and
waiting body.
     She gasped in wonder at the penetration of his first thrust.
She felt herself tighten around him, and moved to match his
rhythm.  Her legs wrapped around his to hold him even closer to
her.  Her hands pressed his lower back to thrust him even deeper
into her.
     They became a unit, working in a single rhythm, moving to a
common goal.  They kissed until kissing became a distraction, and
then they held each other as closely as their arms could manage.
Both feeling the heat and the friction building and building up
 
to a flashfire.  He held back slightly, waiting for her, but he
didn't have to wait long.
     The building flood of feeling that was setting her afire
reached a clenching peak of intensity that sent waves of
excitement throughout her body, she arched up to meet his thrust
and remained there--holding the feeling for as long as she could.
She wasn't even aware of the low moans she was uttering.  Briefly
the excitement waned, only to peak again, and once again she held
rigid, tight against him.  Her movements triggered his own
release and she felt his warm explosion inside her as her second
orgasm faded away to an all encompassing, tingling warmth.
     They lay there enfolded in each other for long moments, the
silence of the wagon disturbed only by the sounds of their
panting breath.  As their breathing slowed, once again their
hands started exploring each other's bodies, only now the
caresses held the warmth of affection instead of the excitement
of passion.
     They kissed, gentle with the wonder of what they had felt,
and had shared, and were still sharing.  Sofia pulled the covers
up over Tevya's body as it lay atop hers.  Her feeling of caring
for him, of concern for his well-being were tender and precious.
He breathed a sigh of relaxed  contentment.
 
     Feodor cleaned the muck from his boots, and washed his hands
at the barnyard pump.  He had been watching the path for Sofia's
return for the past hour, while he cleaned the oxen's stalls.  He
was a little concerned, but not overly so.  He decided it was
time to go speak with his wife, Marika, and tell her of his
thoughts.
     Marika, with Kati's help, was just finishing the dinner
preparations when her husband entered the house.  He shooed Kati
out of the kitchen and closed the door.  Marika was startled by
this, and looked questioningly at him.
     "Marika," he began, "Would you be terribly hurt if one of
our daughters ran away with a handsome young man who is trying
hard to be a peddler?"




