If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to 
read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do 
something else.

This material is Copyright, 2004, Uther Pendragon.  All rights 
reserved.  I specifically grant the right for all reproduction 
necessary for normal Usenet propagation.  I specifically grant 
the right of downloading and keeping ONE electronic copy for your 
personal reading so long as this notice is included.  Reposting 
requires previous permission.

All of my other stories in this form can be found at:
index.txt

All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as 
public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination 
and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly 
coincidental.

                         # #  #  #  # # 

                         Charlotte 1883
                        Uther  Pendragon
                     nogardneprethu@gmail.com


"Lottie," Minnie Brown told Charlotte Larson, "I've seen the new 
preacher."  As Minnie's father was an important man in the 
Oriskany Methodist Episcopal church, Minnie had helped the new 
preacher's family move in every July for the past three years.

"So?"

"He's young.  And single.  And he looks dreamy."

Charlotte wondered what a single preacher would do in the 
parsonage.  It was larger than the house which accommodated her 
family of six and their maid of all work.  Rev. Woods had shut up 
some rooms; and he had been married, though his children were 
long grown.

Charlotte waited until Sunday to see the preacher.  Daniel Osborne 
was young, and he preached loud sermons.  He concentrated less on 
sin than on salvation.  After harvest was in, she found what he 
planned to do with the parsonage.  He asked the young people to 
visit him Sunday evenings.  A few families, like the Browns, 
actually lived in the village, but most of the children would 
have to borrow the family buggy to get there.  

The evenings were fun, though.  Rev. Osborne started them off 
with a prayer and some hymns, but he felt comfortable with 
secular songs after that.  He served (soft) cider or hot 
chocolate depending on the weather.  Only for the worst weather of 
winter did he cancel those evenings.

Some boys took to giving rides to girls.  Rev. Osborne said that 
this was generous of them, and made no other comment when he 
performed weddings for two of those couples.  Charlotte, however, 
had no special boy; besides, the Larson buggy usually held her 
younger brother, Will, and sometimes her sister, Alice, as well.  
John was too young.

At first, Rev. Osborne played his own piano for those evenings.  
When the Deetman children came down with chicken pox, Dr. Jenkins 
quarantined the whole family.  Since Mrs. Deetman couldn't play 
the piano for church, Charlotte was pressed into service.  She 
played for Sarah Deetman's funeral, too; Mrs. Deetman couldn't be 
expected to play then.  George and Hannah recovered, though, and 
Mrs. Deetman took her usual place at the piano.

"Charlotte," Rev. Osborne said that Sunday evening, "I think I 
have inflicted my playing on this group enough times.  I didn't 
know you played so well.  Could you play for us?"  So she played 
for the youth group.  Some of the songs were chosen by those in 
attendance, but Rev. Osborne took to consulting her after service 
about what would be suitable and what various people liked.

"Lucky Lottie," said Minnie.  "I wish Rev. Osborne wanted to talk 
with *me.*  Don't you think he looks dreamy?"  Charlotte blushed.  
She thought Reverend Osborne looked dreamy, and sounded dreamy -- 
especially when he sang.  

For that matter, he sometimes appeared in her dreams, but she 
couldn't talk about those to Minnie.  She couldn't talk about 
them to anybody.  In those dreams, Dan Osborne sometimes 
*kissed* her.

Minnie could talk about her pash for Reverend Osborne; she had 
talked a dozen times about her pash for one boy or another.  
Charlotte daren't mention her emotions concerning Daniel Osborne.  
They were exclusive to him, and deep, and totally hopeless.  

For he was going away that summer.  He was a Methodist traveling 
preacher, and they would never see him again.  She was close to 
crying over that every day, and she did cry the first time one of 
her friends played James Kerrigan's new song, "Bright Mohawk 
Valley."  She took the sheet and read the words until they burned 
into her mind.

"There is a new song out about *our* valley," she told her 
father.  "Can we buy it?"

"Maybe some time.  Let's see how we stand after harvest."

"Now.  Please, *please*."

"You have more than enough piano music," her mother said.  "If 
you have to play more songs, learn some more from the hymnal."

"I know many hymns already.  I played for the church when Mrs. 
Deetman couldn't."

"And we were proud of her, Charles," her mother said suddenly.  
"Could we afford the new sheet music now?"

"If both of you are determined."

The lyrics were every bit as appropriate as she had thought it 
was, and every bit as sad.  "From this valley, they say you are 
going," she sang when her chores were done.  "I shall miss your 
bright eyes and sweet smile."  Then she cried.

"Crying when you are singing ruins your voice," her father said 
suddenly.  She hadn't heard him come in, but dusk was showing 
outside the windows.  "Train yourself to sing without crying."  
How she could sing that song without crying, she couldn't 
imagine.

Only her brother, Will, helped her father with plowing, but all 
of them worked the land during planting season.   Once the 
potatoes were safely in the ground, Charlotte's chores included 
hoeing and weeding.  She had less time to practice the piano, but 
she took what time she could to practice singing "Bright Mohawk 
Valley" without crying.

Reverend Osborne's time was coming to an end.  "One more Sunday 
between this one and Annual Conference," he told her while her 
family waited in the buggy after church.  "I want the last youth 
fellowship to be something special.  Can you think of a favorite 
song for each of your friends?"

She felt daring.  "Or maybe one song for Margaret and George."

He laughed.  "That's a wedding my successor will perform.  You 
know, being a minister provides many pleasures, aside from 
serving the Lord.  But it provides sorrows as well.  Every year, 
a minister leaves people he cares about dearly.  It is even worse 
on his family."

It was no easier on the congregation, either.  She would never 
see him again.  She took the bit in her teeth.  "Next week will 
be special for everybody.  Could I play a special song tonight?"

"If you wish.  A hymn?"

"A popular song."

She took the sheet music for "Bright Mohawk Valley" with her to 
the parsonage.  Even though they knew the next week would be 
special, all the young people were in attendance.

They sang hymns and then popular songs.  "The last song," 
Reverend Osborne announced, "is 'Auld Lang Syne.'  Before that, 
Charlotte has a song.  Do we sing along, or is this a solo?"

"A solo, if I may."

"You may."

She fumbled the music onto the piano and blushed, but it was too 
late for second thoughts.  "From this valley, they say you are 
going," she sang, "We will miss your bright eyes and sweet 
smile...."  She managed to keep any sob out of her voice, but she 
was afraid to turn around at the end because she could feel the 
tears on her cheeks.

"Well," Reverend Osborne said, "Charlotte and I have something to 
discuss.  Peter, could you drop Will and Sarah at their house on 
the way to yours?"

"Yessir."

Nobody mentioned "Auld Lang Syne."  Everybody went out.

"Charlotte," he said.

"Reverend Osborne."  Now her voice did show that she was crying.

"'Dan,' please."

"Dan," she sobbed.  She had dreamed of calling him "Dan."

"Please look at me."

She turned around on the piano stool.  He went down on his knees 
in front of her.  "I think I told you that the life of a 
minister's family has difficulties.  They leave friends every 
year, and the minister's wife learns that the women in the church 
all know precisely how she should act -- sometimes different 
groups of women know she should act in contradictory ways.  

"So I'm asking you to take on a hard task, but...."

"But?"  Did he mean what she thought he meant?

"But would you marry me?"

"Yes.  Oh yes."  He stood and lifted her into his arms.  His kiss 
was every bit as exciting as she had dreamed it would be.  His 
hug was even more exciting.

He stepped back from her sometime afterwards. "We should tell 
your parents," he said.

He drove the buggy back.  She sat beside him looking totally 
proper, but her mind was churning from memories of the kiss.

"Reverend Osborne," her mother greeted him as they walked in the 
kitchen.

"Charles, Bertha," he began.

"Just a moment Reverend," her mother said.  "Will, go up to bed."  

"But...." said Will.

"Now!" said her father.

Will scooted upstairs.  He'd be listening by the grillwork which 
let hot air from the kitchen warm the rooms.  Charlotte had done 
that often enough.

"Charles, Bertha," Dan began again.  "I have asked Charlotte to 
do me the honor of becoming my wife."

"Are you sure," her father asked, "that the asking went in that 
direction?"

Charlotte was shocked; nobody else seemed to be.

"I am quite sure," Dan responded.  "However, she has done me 
the signal honor of accepting."

"When do you two plan to have the wedding?" her mother asked.

"We haven't progressed to that question.  I must, however, go to 
annual conference in a little more than a week.  After that I 
will go to a new church.  I will prepare a place for her there, 
and return for the wedding."

"There is no hurry, then?" her father asked.

"Well," Charlotte said.  "I am in a hurry."

"I am, too," Dan said.  "But there are constraints.  I expect 
the bishop will want to perform the service.  If he isn't able, 
then the new preacher here will do that.  But I would like to  
give the bishop the opportunity.  That means letting him set the 
schedule.  I'm sorry; but, as I told Charlotte, being a 
preacher's wife means letting others set your schedule."

"That," her father said, "is fine."

"Charles," her mother said, "would you drive the preacher back?"

"I can walk," Dan said.

"If you did," her father said, "I would hear about it for a year, 
and not only from Bertha.  Come out with us Charlotte, and wave 
us good bye."  On the porch, he continued, "Excuse me for a 
moment."  He disappeared in the direction of the outhouse. 

Dan swept her into another kiss.  It was exciting as before, 
but they were merely holding hands when they heard the outhouse 
door slam open.  The sound surprised Charlotte, because the only 
time she had heard a similar sound was when there was a high wind 
from the West.  The wind that night was slight and, if anything, 
from the northeast.

When she had waved them good bye, her mother was standing on the 
porch beside her.  "Come with me," she said.  They walked out to 
a fence and sat on the bottom rail side by side.  "I don't want 
Will and the others overhearing this."

Then she laid out the duties of a wife.  Charlotte wasn't totally 
innocent.  She had seen animals, after all, and she knew about 
girls who had needed to get married.  "Anyway," her mother 
finished, "you might think it strange, at first.  But it grows 
pleasant later.  And it is part of being a wife, part of being a 
woman."

"Very well, mother, I will do my duty."  Actually, if the kisses 
were part of it, she thought that it might grow pleasant quite 
soon.  Not soon enough, of course.  The wedding would be months 
away.

"Would Charlotte Larson come forward," Dan said at the end of the 
service Sunday.  When she did, "I want you all to know that 
Charlotte has done me the honor of accepting my proposal of 
matrimony.  I thought that I would never see any of your faces 
again, but -- God willing -- I shall see most of you one more 
time.  And I shall see Charlotte as long as we both shall live."

He took the train out the next day, and kissed her in broad 
daylight on the platform in front of a dozen people.

She had that memory for the next months, that memory and a few 
letters.  But she didn't have time to moon over either.  She was 
busy on the farm by day and finishing off her trousseau by 
lamplight.  Dan's new church was way over in Cortland.  He wrote 
a full description of the parsonage.

The wedding was scheduled for after the harvest.  Finally, the 
day arrived.  Dan came on the Tuesday night train and lodged 
with the Browns.  She would not see him until the evening wedding.  
The bishop arrived Wednesday morning; Reverend Springer, the new 
preacher, put him up in the parsonage.

The wedding was lovely, and Dan spoke his vows with a strong 
voice.  She choked hers out through tears.  Her mother was crying 
worse than she was.  "You may," the bishop finally said, "kiss 
the bride."  This kiss was even more thrilling than the previous 
ones had been.  

When Mrs. Deetman came to congratulate them afterward, Dan fished 
in his pocket.  "I want to thank you for your fine playing," he 
said and held out a five-dollar gold piece.

"The charge," Mrs. Deetman said, "is the same as the charge for 
Sarah's funeral."  She put her hands behind her back.

"Funerals are different," Dan said.  "I charge for performing 
weddings."

"Sarah would come back from her grave to haunt me if I charged 
for playing at Lottie's wedding."  When Dan put the coin back in 
his pocket, Mrs. Deetman hugged Charlotte.

"You were not supposed to deal with the congregation after I was 
appointed," Reverend Springer said.

"And here I am taking the loveliest one away."  Dan laughed with 
Reverend Springer.  Then she and Dan had to hurry to the train 
station.  

The trip took all night, including an hour waiting for the 
connection.  Dan asked her about her summer for the first part of 
the trip, but -- when she ran out -- he soon fell asleep.  They 
had breakfast on the train while it was still moving.  This felt 
strange to Charlotte, but Dan and the other passengers seemed to 
accept it as normal.  When they got to Cortland, a Mr. Ward, one 
of Dan's new parishioners, was waiting for them with a cart.  He 
and Dan loaded it with Dan's valise and her trunks.  

The seat was crowded with three in it.  She was more and more 
conscious of Dan's body next to hers.  Her mother's description 
of the behavior of married men had sounded delightful when she'd 
heard it, and she had wished that it could have been sooner.  
Now, with it approaching at the same pace that they approached 
the parsonage, she was apprehensive.

Mr. Ward helped Dan carry her trunks up the stairs to a room.  It 
was the room, the bedroom, she and Dan would be occupying.  
"Thank you, Mr. Ward," she said.  "You have been a great help."

"You are welcome, Mrs. Osborne," Ward said.  "And welcome to 
Cortland."  Dan walked him to the door and gave his own thanks.

When he came back upstairs, Charlotte blushed.  Her mother had 
described the wedding night, but it had started with the couple 
in bed together.  Would Dan undress her?  Would he expect her to 
undress herself in front of him?  Would he expect her to undress 
*him*?  He began by kissing her.  This was less exciting than the 
earlier kisses had been; she was too nervous.

"I echo Ward.  Welcome to Cortland.  I could tell that you didn't 
sleep well on the train.  Why don't you get some rest?  There is 
bread and ham in the kitchen, but we are invited to a supper 
this evening.  I will come back for you before then."

She did go to bed, a luxurious, wide, bed with a feather 
mattress.  This reminded her of periods of sickness when she had 
been younger.  Only when she was very ill did her mother allow 
her to sleep in broad daylight.  She unpacked much of one trunk, 
and remade the bed with the fancy sheets and pillow cases she had 
embroidered herself.  Two pillow cases, the thought was somehow 
exciting.  She explored the house.  Much of the upstairs was 
empty.  All the utensils in the kitchen were in different places 
than where her mother kept them, and they were fewer.  Well, she 
had brought some in the other trunk.

Her nervousness had disappeared during her sleep, and Dan's kiss 
after he came home was much more exciting.  The supper was both 
to welcome her to the church and to celebrate their marriage.  
There was something of the teasing that she had overheard 
directed at other newly-married couples, but it *was* a church 
group; everyone was quite discreet.  The evening broke up early.  
"I have to open the store at dawn," said one of the guests.

"And *you* can go right to sleep," another responded.

The company chuckled, and then laughed harder at seeing her 
blush.

When she and Dan had got back to the parsonage, he lit the gas 
lamp in their bedroom.  She had never seen one inside a home 
before.  Even the stores in Oriskany did not have gas yet.  Dan 
kissed her again.  "Why don't you change in here?" he asked.  
"I'll use the room across the hall."

She did as he suggested, and remained standing until she heard a 
discreet knock on the door.  It was *his* room, after all.  
Still, she was grateful; what if she had not finished changing 
yet?  She opened the door for him, and he looked at her in her 
newly embroidered linen nightgown.  He was wearing a plain cotton 
nightshirt.  "Very lovely," he said.  "The gown, and the woman.  
You were always lovely, of course; but you look even lovelier 
this way."

She hid her blushes in his hug, and then blushed more.  With only 
two layers of soft cloth between them, she felt every inch of his 
body against hers.  Her breasts pressed against his chest, and 
she felt against her belly the organ her mother had talked about.  

He led her over to the bed and helped her in.  When he lay down 
beside her, he kissed her again.  This kiss seemed to go on 
forever.  Meanwhile, his hand caressed down her left arm.  When 
he did leave her mouth, he kissed her forehead and eyebrows 
lightly.  When their mouths met again, his hand moved to her 
breast.  

His kisses trailed down from her mouth to her neck.  She had only 
thought that his earlier kisses were exciting; these were bliss.  
Then he was kissing her through the cloth of her nightgown.  
"This is so lovely," he said.  "We don't want to spoil it, do 
we?" 

"No."

"Maybe you should take it off."  Well, they were married.  She 
sat up and removed the gown.  Then she burrowed under the covers, 
hiding herself.  He kissed her again, kissed her mouth, really, 
since she was discovering that he could kiss her other places.  
This time the trail of kisses led down her neck to her breast.  
"Oh, Lottie," he said. "Oh, Charlotte!"

There was nothing between his hand and her skin as he stroked 
down her side and leg.  When his hand returned upward, it stroked 
the inside parts of her legs.  This tickled; it embarrassed her; 
it also excited her.  Then he sucked at her nipple just as his 
hand reached the juncture of her thighs.  Nobody had ever touched 
her there; she had rarely touched herself there. 

He kissed her left breast, soon concentrating on her nipple.  
Competing with her excitement was a worry.  She could feel 
dampness, as though she had wet herself, less than an inch from 
his hand.  When his fingers parted her lower lips, touching that 
dampness, she feared some expression of disgust from Dan.

Instead, he said "Oh Charlotte!"  He stroked her there while 
kissing and sucking on her breast.  Worry lessened, she 
concentrated on the new sensations.  They were getting better and 
better when he suddenly stopped sucking on her breast.   He 
need not stop, but she could never say that.

He kissed a path down her left breast and up her right to that 
nipple.  When he sucked there, he resumed the gentle strokes of 
his fingers between her lower lips.  That was a delight.  She was 
too embarrassed to say so, but she felt herself clasping his head 
against her breast.

Then the sensations, delightful as they had been, became more 
delightful.  The feelings spread warmth through her, and she 
pressed down with arms and legs to raise her body toward Dan's 
caresses.  She luxuriated in the glory of those feelings.

Until the warmth turned to fire and the glory into agony.  She 
gasped as every muscle tightened into a knot.  For some 
unmeasurable period of time, all these sensations pulsed within 
her.

As suddenly as the tightness had come, it left.  She collapsed 
into the bed, unable to move except for her gasping lungs.  Dan 
let her rest there, and she was vaguely aware that he was sitting 
up beside her and removing his own nightshirt.  Then he lay back 
down beside her and kissed her shoulder.  They touched in only a 
few places, but she was acutely aware that those touches were 
skin to skin.

After a little while, he asked, "Are you all right?" 

All right?  She felt better than she had ever felt before.  
"Yes."

He said nothing else, but he moved over her and between her legs.  
This was what her mother had told her about.  His hand went back 
between her legs and spread her lower lips.  "This might hurt," 
he said.

That's what her mother had told her.  "Yes."  She braced herself.  
She felt more touches on those lips, and some of the touches 
remained when his hand moved away.

He kissed her mouth, quite gently.  Then she felt him press 
against her and into her down there.  "Charlotte!" he said.  
There was a brief pain, and he was sliding into her.  "Are you 
all right?" he asked again.

"Yes."  She had hurt worse.

"Tell me when you are ready for me to move."

Move?  But she was ready for anything now.  "I'm ready."  He 
moved inside her as well as above her.  She still felt 
discomfort, if not actual pain.  He moved back and forth more 
rapidly.  Then the strangest expression crossed his face.  He 
pushed into her more deeply, and more forcefully.  Then she felt 
a throbbing where they were joined.

A moment later, he was lying on her and gasping in her ear.  She 
put her arms around him.  The weight was comforting while it was 
uncomfortable.  Soon, though, he moved off her to lie beside her.  
He hugged her, and they touched everywhere.

"I am sorry that I had to hurt you," he said.

"The hurt was small compared to the joy of being married to you."  
Indeed, she would trade it for lying next to his warm skin any 
day.

She awoke still naked, still next to a naked man.  And his organ 
was pressing against her side.  "Good morning, Charlotte," Dan 
said.  "A very good morning, Mrs. Osborne."

Feeling strange to be naked in front of him, she rose and dressed 
rapidly.  Of course, dressing in front of him also gave her a 
strange feeling.  She made a fire in the kitchen stove and cooked 
breakfast.  There was only one egg left when she had finished.  
Dan heated water on the stove for his shave.  She enjoyed 
watching him shave, remembering watching her father when she was 
little.

He gave her some coins, and she went shopping after breakfast.  
Large as the town was, people seemed to know who she was.  She 
spent the next few days settling into her new kitchen and her 
new life.  Friday and Saturday, different families invited them 
to supper.  Supper seemed to be a heavier meal than dinner in 
Cortland.  She was both a new bride, welcomed into the circle of 
married women by those more experienced, and the preacher's wife.  
She'd seen many women perform in that role.  She found herself 
imitating the ones whom she had regarded as doing the best job.  
At least, coming into the church after Sunday School classes and 
Women's Society of Christian Service offices were filled, she 
wasn't expected to take any of those responsibilities.

Sunday, she sat in a front pew and listened to Dan's sermon.  
Afterwards, he was appreciative of the full dinner she had 
cooked.  It was the first dinner in their new home.  The members 
of the church had been hospitable, but it was nice to be by 
themselves.

They walked around the town after dinner.  Everybody seemed to be 
out, either on foot like them, or driving in carriages.  Most of 
the men were smoking cigars.  When they returned, Dan kissed her.  
One tiny part of her pleasure was thinking how much better the 
taste of his kisses must be than those received by the wives of 
the smokers.   Supper was light, and afterwards they sang some 
songs together.  As the room darkened, she expected Dan to light 
the gas lamp.  She was still nervous about doing so.  Instead he 
yawned.  "Are you ready for bed?" he asked.

"Certainly."  Actually, it was early even for a farmer.

Upstairs, he began to undress in the room.  She was hesitant.  
"We *are* married," he said.  And so they were, but she was 
unused to that condition.  She changed into a plain nightgown  
and they knelt across the bed from one another.  After their 
prayers, they got into their own sides of the bed. 

Dan leaned over to kiss her.  As the kiss went on and on, she 
realized that sleepiness hadn't been his reason for going to bed 
so early.  The thought excited her as much as his kiss did.  
Soon, the caresses of his hand were more exciting yet. 

"Raise yourself," he said suddenly.  When she did, he moved the 
hem of her nightgown up nearly to her armpits.  His hands were 
all over her body, concentrating on her breasts.  Then his hand 
surrendered her left breast to his lips.  "Oh, Lottie," he said 
before resuming his sucking.  Although his mouth was gentle on 
her, she felt like she were burning under it.  

The fire spread lower into her belly.  When his hand stroked down 
her torso, it was almost as if it were following the fire.  His 
hand went where even her hand only went when she was wiping 
herself.  For a moment, that embarrassed her, but the sensations 
were too pleasant.  And, as he had said, they *were* married.  
Then the fire burned hotter and she forgot all about 
embarrassment.  She even missed his caresses when his hand and 
his mouth left her at the same time.

But then he was kneeling between her legs.  He kissed her lightly 
on the lips while his hand felt her and placed his organ.  She 
braced herself, but there was no pain as he slid smoothly into 
her.  "Oh, Lottie," he said again before kissing her forehead.  
His motions were right where the fire had been, right where it 
kindled again.  Soon, he was moving faster and she was moving 
against him.  When he drove forward, she pressed upward; when he 
moved back, she sank down.  Somehow, her body knew to do that 
without her mind having the least idea why.  And then the fire 
burned more fiercely yet.  "Oh!" she said as her feelings 
exploded.  

She wrapped her arms around Dan, who was moving more rapidly and 
more forcefully than ever.  He pressed her down in the feather 
bed and went all rigid in her arms.  Then she could feel him 
pulsing deep within her.

He relaxed, lying heavy on her.  "Darling," he said, "darling 
Charlotte, darling wife."  A minute later, he moved off and lay 
beside her.  That made breathing easier, but she missed his 
weight.  Then he wrapped an arm around her.

That gave the closeness without interfering with her breathing.  
When her mother had told her that it grew pleasant later, 
Charlotte hadn't anticipated this much pleasure, nor this soon.  
She was glad she had married Dan.  "Mrs. Osborne," she said 
suddenly.

"Hmm?" Dan asked.

"Mrs. Osborne.  That's who I am.  I'm happy to be Mrs. Osborne."

"Well, I am happy that you are Mrs. Osborne, too."


The end
Charlotte 1883
Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com
2004/05/29


For another story of another marriage in another century:
rampant.txt
"Rampant"

This story is indexed under:
wl.txt
Wedded Lust

The index to almost all my stories:
http://www.asstr.org/~Uther_Pendragon/index.htm