Legacy

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“Henry, come in here!” I heard her yelling. Ann, my nurse was calling me to the house.

I ran to the back door and up the stairs to my rooms. I had a bed chamber and a classroom, which used to be my nursery. My nurse was pacing the floor in front of the cold fireplace. When she heard me approach, she looked up with tears in her eyes. I felt all the blood drain from my face. My feet became lead. I knew.

“Henry, I’m sorry” she whispered. I ran to her and threw myself into her arms. I was twelve and now an orphan. My father had succumbed to his disease. I was alone.

My mother died in childbirth. I was always told that I killed her. My father hated me. He hired Ann to be my nurse and that was the only kind thing he ever did for me.

A week later, the solicitors had been in the house for days, discussing, reading papers, making deals, finalizing settlements. Ann and I lived like ghosts that week, watching, staying out of the way. Waiting for our fate to be decreed.

Finally, on the ninth day after my father’s passing, they informed me that I was being sent to a distant relative and Ann was being given a severance and a letter of recommendation. We were being separated. I screamed and Ann held me while the lawyer left the room, coldly ignoring the scene I was causing.

Eight Years Later

March 1758

“Do you think we’ll make it before the rain?” I called over my shoulder. My guardian of the past eight years, rode his horse behind me.

“We might, if you ride and shut your mouth for a while” he grumbled loud enough to be heard. He was my distant cousin, the only family member that could be found when my father passed away without making any provisions for me, even though he knew of his impending death for more than a year before he died.

My cousin, James Errington, was older than my father. I’d never heard his name before I arrived on his doorstep eight years ago. He was contacted by my father’s lawyers and he agreed to take in his unknown cousin’s orphan son.

Now, I am twenty years old and the family lawyers have called me back to my home at Sandhurst. James willingly traveled with me, saying he’s happy to send me packing, but he’s going to miss me. We’ve grown close and he’s much more a father than mine ever could have been. James has seen to my education, my socialization and my sense of humor. Sarcasm and dry jokes is the language we speak to each other. I love him dearly.

Darkness is falling quickly now, and the promised Inn is visible in the distance. I know that the horses are just as glad as we are. This evening we hit the halfway mark on our long journey.

The Inn is warm and welcoming. The rain held off until the horses were stabled and James and I had rented their last two rooms and ordered a meal.

Two bowls of a hearty stew and two tankards of ale are placed in front of us. “Enjoy your meal, gentlemen” the young, beautiful serving girl purrs. James’ head shoots up at her tone as he looks between me and the girl.

I smile at her “thanks love”. She blushes furiously and scampers off. James continues to look at me with huge eyes until he finally bursts into laughter. It’s so good to hear, he saves it for very special occasions. I grin at him, knowing he’s in on the joke.

After the meal, James yawns and nearly unhinges his jaw. “Go to bed old man” I tease.

“When you’re as old as me Henry, you’ll regret all this teasing”.

“No, I will never regret any time I can tease you. You should know that by now.”

James rolls his eyes and stands to go “don’t you stay up all night boy, we have to make up time tomorrow”.

“We really don’t”, which is true, there is no deadline for our arrival. He wants to push too hard for a man his age, as usual.

He just growls as he heads for the stairs. I chuckle at his retreating form.

“I’m Sylvie” the little bar maid arrives at my elbow as soon as James is out of sight. “Can I get you another ale, or anything else you’d like sir” she practically rubs against me.

“Just an ale Sylvie”, I smile politely and she leaves to fetch it. This isn’t uncommon for me. Women are drawn to me “like a moth to flame” James always says.

At twenty years old, I’m of average height, around five feet and eight inches tall and of average build, about 150 pounds. I’ve been told it’s my smile that gets them. But James says it’s the mischief in my sparkling green eyes that draws the women in.

My eyes are a golden green with darker flecks and my dark eyelashes frame them to their very best advantage. My skin is tan from being outside, but it’s the end of winter, so I’m about as pale as you’ll ever find me. My hair is shaggy and long, it’s dark brown with soft curls that women envy as well as admire. “You look like a storybook prince” is something the old ladies at church would say to me every Sunday.

“Our sweet Henry, with your long dark curls, your angelic, easy smile and those devil’s eyes, you could be the prince in every fairytale!” They pinched my cheeks, not just the ones on karaman escort my face. My curse is that the older the lady, the more she loves me. But now, at twenty, the younger ladies are starting to overtake the old biddies. I’m actually glad to be leaving Devonshire and heading as far north as you can get without leaving England. There were several girls with obsessed mothers trying to get me to court their daughters. I wasn’t interested.

“I can come back to your room” Sylvie says as she sets down my ale, startling me from my thoughts of my time in Devon.

“Thank you Sylvie, but I’m not interested tonight” I try to let her down easy and I hope she stops coming on to me. She stands there with huge sad eyes. As I look at her, I see a man behind her at the next table. He’s watching us curiously. Maybe he’s surprised I’m turning her down. She is beautiful and clearly willing. I can’t help but stare into his nearly black eyes. He’s wearing his hat low over his brow, so his face is mostly in shadow. But his eyes catch the firelight and I can see swirls of the orange flame and a rich warm brown as he stares back.

He suddenly looks towards the door. I follow his eyes and realize Sylvie is gone. I have no idea how long I was starting at this dark mysterious stranger. I look back at him and he’s looking down at his drink, almost like it never happened.

After a few moments, I decide to talk to him. “That rain out there is harder than I expected”, using weather as an excuse and feeling stupid as soon as it left my mouth. He doesn’t even acknowledge that he heard me.

I wait, then I try again. “Which way are you headed?”

Nothing. Not so much as a flinch. He takes a drink and stays to himself. I guess I’ll take the hint and stop trying. But he’s still looking down so I take some time to really look him over. He’s tall, at least four inches taller than me. He’s broad shouldered, but he has a narrow waist. I’d bet he’s rather lean under his cloak. He has long legs and old worn boots. Everything is dark. Brown, black, dark grey, dark blue. He’s like a fully dimensional shadow. When the light of the fire hits him just right, his dark stubbled jaw is strong and square. He looks almost……dangerous for some reason.

I realize I should stop staring before he looks up at me again. He could be looking for trouble. He arrived after us, so I’m not sure if he has a room or if he’s going to leave soon. Not knowing is making me crazy and frustrated, but I’m not sure why I’m so agitated. I take down the rest of my ale and glance around the Inn’s public room. There are several men by the fire, playing dice and talking about the upcoming planting season. Locals.

At the bar a fancy older gentleman sits, soaked through. He must of gotten caught out in that rain. He’s clearly got some wealth and Sylvie has a new target. She buzzes around him, wiping up water, offering to draw him a hot bath, big enough for two. She is the least subtle girl I’ve ever seen, and I accidently ended up in a brothel once.

Maybe it’s time for me to just head to bed. I can’t watch Sylvie nearly hump this poor soaked old man any longer. The dice playing locals clearly don’t want the company of young travelers like myself. And the shadow man in the corner is still looking at his drink. I leave some coins and stretch my arms over my head. It’s been a long day in the saddle and I’ve gotten stiff from sitting. As I bring my arms back down to my sides I notice the stranger is looking right at me. It makes my heart skip a beat. I nod politely and head for the stairs.

I wonder what he was thinking. What, if anything, did he think about me? And why did I care? I sat in the same room with him for a bit more than an hour and I’d never see him again, so why was he so hard to stop thinking about?

I reach my room at the end of the hall and out of the corner of my eye I see a dark figure. I turn around and my heart stops. There he is. The shadow man, leaning against the wall, head held high, looking right into my eyes. I stand frozen. I think I should be afraid, but I’m not. He’s bigger than I thought. His skin looks smooth, even with all the dark stubble. He’s younger than I thought too, maybe in his late twenties.

We stand and stare for a few seconds but it feels like hours. I’m uncomfortable but I don’t want him to leave either. His stance looks like he’s not planning on leaving and that thrills me. I need to keep my head. I need to just go into my room and go to sleep so I can meet James in there morning. But I can’t. I can’t look away. I don’t want him to leave.

I finally force myself to relax and I lean against the door frame. He seems to like this move because he almost smiles. It’s devastating. With the barest hint of a smile, he transforms into the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. He’s not scary. He’s not threatening. He’s mysterious and incredibly appealing. I can feel my body starting to react. My arms get gooseflesh. The hair on my head all but stands on end. I feel my karaman escort bayan lips part slightly and his eyes are glued to my mouth.

He stands straight and approaches slowly. I stand up too and wait to see what is going to happen. He could easily kill me in this quiet hallway. He could be a highwayman or a thief and yet I’m unafraid. Finally he stands just inches from me, our chests nearly touching in the silence.

“Do you want to come in?” I say nearly unaware I was going to speak. I’m caught off guard by own question in the darkened hallway. My heart is racing, I’m sure he can hear it. I feel hot and freezing cold all at the same time. I’ve never experienced this raw energy with anyone before, in any circumstance. He nods once and I have to think for a second to remember what he’s nodding about. For the love of all that’s holy, I’ve invited this incredible, huge man into my room and he’s agreed to join me. What am I thinking? Don’t panic, I tell myself.

I quickly turn away from him, he’s so close my shoulder brushes him, as I fumble with the key to unlock the room. I can’t believe any of this is happening, but I have got to get out of this hallway before I have a complete freak out. The door finally swings open and I’m glad I’d lit the fire before we ate our dinner. The room is warm and cozy and illuminated enough to help calm me.

I step into the room and he follows me in, closing the door behind him. “I’m Henry” I say dumbly and I kick myself mentally for acting like a nervous idiot.

“I know” he says. Wait, what does he know? My name? How? Before I can ask, he says “I heard your father call you that”.

“He’s my cousin.” Why did I say that? He doesn’t care who the hell James is. He nods and looks around the room. He scans the wall where the fireplace is and notes the ugly stained painting that hangs above the hearth. It’s covered in years of tar and grime from the fire. His eyes continue around the room until they land on the bed. It’s not big, but it’s big enough. What is my head doing thinking that?!?! Big enough for what I ask myself all while trying not to look panicked.

He shrugs off his cloak and then looks at me. He reaches up and takes off his hat. He’s incredibly gorgeous. My mouth is dry and I swallow to try to clear my jumbled thoughts. He motions at my chest with his head as he starts to undo his coat and waistcoat, like he’s asking me to do the same. I step closer to him and I reach for his coat and push it off his shoulders. “William” he says.

“William?” He nods again. That must be his name. I reach for his shirt to pull it out of his waistband. He stops me by holding my smaller hands in his big rough ones, although he’s very gentle. I drop my hands and he starts to undress me. He looks between my buttons as he undoes them and my face, making sure I’m alright. I nod at him and he starts to move a bit faster, with a bit of urgency. This change in pace excites me. And it all changed with one nod from me. That alone gets my blood boiling with need. It’s never been like this before.

He finally removes all my clothing from my waist up. I stand before him in my trousers, hard and breathless. He lightly brushes his hand over my straining member and I nearly jump. That one move, that promise of more to come, makes me feel wild inside. He’s just standing there gazing at my chest, looking reverent. Why isn’t he making another move? What do I do?

I reach for my waistband and start to undo it. I need relief from the tight fitting trousers and I need to do something to move this all forward before he runs or I can think about it too much. He takes my action of removing the rest of my clothing as a sign to do the same. By the time I remove my trousers and stockings, he’s also fully disrobed. This man looks like a statue of a god. He must be several inches taller than six feet. He is at least forty pounds heavier than me. He’s built of solid muscle, covered in a dusting of dark hair. His chest and his crotch have thick patches of black hair. His manhood stands erect from the dark curling hair between his legs.

When he looks at my smooth younger body, he seems to get even harder and I can see moisture on the tip of his huge member. He must be just over eight inches and thick. While I’m a smaller man, at least six inches shorter than him, my cock is large, slightly longer than his. I know mine is eight and a half inches, so he’s got to be eight inches himself.

I reach out and put both hands on his large lean chest, feeling the springy hairs under my fingers. He just stares into my eyes. Then in his deep voice, he says quietly “Tell me what to do”. I smile at him while I try to figure out if he has never done this with a man before, and he wants instruction, or does he just like to be told what to do?

“Lay back on the bed” I say in a more commanding tone than I expected. He smiles for the first time, a big wide smile, making him look even more handsome than before. I want him so badly I have to tell myself escort karaman to calm down. I can’t just explode everywhere before I even touch this man. He obeys my command and lays down in the middle of the bed, legs slightly spread. His weeping cock stands at attention and his eyes are on mine. It’s intense and I need this man like I’ve never needed anything in my life.

I crawl into the bed and kneel beside him. He reaches out his hand and brushes my thigh. It’s so tender and somehow erotic. His face looks so earnest, nothing like the shadow man from the pub downstairs. I wrap my fingers around his erection and squeeze lightly. He makes the most incredible sound I’ve ever heard and his eyes roll closed. He looks like pure sex to me at this moment. I stroke him lightly and slowly while I decide what to do.

It’s pretty obvious now that he wants me to direct this encounter. I’ve never been in control before. My only lover before this was the pastor’s son, who would just pull my pants down and use me in the barn behind his house. He’d finish and leave. I’d always stay after he left and jerk my cock until I came. He never once finished me off. He used me and left, every single time. This was so different.

Testing the waters with this stranger, I say “William, I want you to suck my balls while you stroke my shaft”. He sits up immediately and gently guides me down onto my back. He runs his hands along my smooth body. He looks like a thirsty man who’s come upon an oasis. It feels incredible to be touched like this. He settles himself between my legs and waits until I focus on his beautiful face. Once we make eye contact, he gently takes my throbbing dick in his hand and lowers his head and licks my testicles. He sucks them into his mouth. At first, one at a time, and then he takes them both in and rolls them gently with his soft wet tongue, all while his hands are stroking my hard on and rubbing my small mound of fur above my sizable manhood.

I don’t want to finish before we start and this feels so damn good, I might die. I can barely grit out the order “Stop!”. He looks up at me with a knowing smirk. I’m relieved he didn’t think I wasn’t enjoying it. He knows I was enjoying it too much. He just sits there, between my knees waiting for my next command. It’s intoxicating to have this man do my bidding. My sexual bidding.

I clear the lust from my mind enough to tell him to get on his hands and knees, facing the foot of the bed. He obediently turns around and braces himself solidly on all fours with his strong pale bottom spread before me, with dark hair running along the whole crack. I can smell his musk. The scent of his pre cum and the sweat of his balls that have been in his trousers for days of traveling is a smell that should turn me off, but in this moment, with my entire body on fire for this man, it’s the most delectable thing I’ve ever smelled. I reach out and stroke his huge hanging balls. My mind equates them to the huge testicles hanging below Mr. Hansen’s bull, in the pen across from our home in Devonshire. I almost giggle at this bizarre thought, but I’m in charge here, I need to remain strong and masculine, not a giddy fairy.

When I stroke his soft sack, his front half sinks down and his ass pushes higher and wider open for me. I drag my fingers up from his balls, through his hairy crack, to his tight little hole. It reacts when I touch it. It flexes and puckers and I immediately know I’m going to use this hole and he’s going to love it, and so will I. I can hear him making these soft, deep needy noises and I direct him “William, tell me you want my cock”.

“I want your cock, Henry” he says easily. “Please put it inside me”, he nearly begs. My rigid length jumps at his answer. He’s looking at it over his shoulder. He licks his lips as my manhood bobs and swells for him. I stand up on my knees and move in close to him until I can rub my aching rod up and down his crack, over his tight hairy hole. He sighs and sinks down completely to his chest. It makes his cheeks spread even wider and his hole beckons me.

I run my hands down his balls and cock to gather his moisture. I wipe his pre cum onto his hole, circling with my finger. His body pushes back against my hand. “You seem ready” I say quietly, nearly to myself, but he hears me and I hear him whine “Please!” into the bed. I spit on his hole while I stroke myself with both of our initial discharges.

I lean forward and press my the swollen head to his entrance. He keeps making those sounds that speak to his desire and growing pleasure. I hold my length, which is harder than it’s ever been before, and push the tip inside. He moans loudly. I pause and wait for him to adjust. He’s so tight, I can’t believe I’ll be able to get it further into him. But he finally relaxes enough for me to gain another inch of depth. His moans sounds like pure pleasure and exquisite pain all at once. I can’t wait much longer and my hips push forward out of instinct alone and I slip deeper and deeper. I only have another two inches to go when he cries out “Henry, please I need you! Harder, please!”. His cries and my overwhelming arousal push me forward until I’m pressing my mound against his muscular cheeks. I’m all the way inside him and he’s clenching and making these mewling noises that can’t be mistaken for anything other than lust.

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