Breakfast In Bedford

May Day in the northern village of Scarborough has come upon the little town, excitement and anticipation hung in the air, encompassing everyone who entered the village bounds. As ladies let their hair down from coifs and braids, and everyone donned their best flower crowns, the streets were alive with flirtatious exchanges and laughter. Throughout the day, the visiting members of the court on progress and the poorest members of society alike sent flowers and gifts to those who held their affection or attraction. It is a day of complete freedom; as the day wore on, exchanges grew more intense between potential lovers and new friends. When the day drew to a close, the Maypole sat against the setting sun, wrapped in a rainbow of colors from the ribbon, and Scarborough came together in the town center to continue celebrating through the night.

Freifrau Matilda von Gotter, visiting with the English court on progress, watched the evening frivolities alone at a small table at the festival. This was her first May Day in England, and she found herself continually stunned at the lustful behavior of the English. She understood that lust occurred among men, although she was hidden away in a castle with Amalia von Kleve in her home in the Germanies, this would have been unheard of for women of her station. Matilda took a long drink of her Radler, a lemon and beer mix, from the stein she brought from her home, allowing the cool liquid to refresh her and calm her nerves. It was important to keep herself collected and focused. It was her duty to put aside her desires for the benefit of her family, so she resided herself to watching villagers and nobles alike romping and reveling together- she could never allow herself such freedom, but how nice it must be to connect with others so freely. Music played, and men and women laughed so loudly that they drowned out individual conversations, leaving only hints of the topics seen by the body language of couples in each other's arms or friends playing games and pranks.

A calm voice interrupted her mesmerized focus; "Good evening, Freifrau", said Sir John Russell, Baron of Bedford, through a smirk, sitting beside her at the otherwise empty table. "What keeps you from enjoying the festivities?" he asks, leaning in slightly closer to her. Matilda looked at him, wide-eyed, shocked that he would be so bold- a symptom of the holiday, she figured. "I'm enjoying them very well from here," she responded stiffly. John smiled warmly at her. "I enjoyed dancing passacalle with you earlier this eve," he mentioned with a tone of mischief, referencing the Italian dance that displays a romantic meeting in a Venetian street. The indication of the licentious promenade caused her to flush suddenly. Clearing her throat, she responded, "I did as well, Baron Bedford," quietly hoping he wouldn't notice her reddening cheeks in the candlelight.

An interruption of some clamorous shouts in the group before them broke their attentions, as Matthew Stuart, Lord Lennox, seemed to cause a commotion in the group, and some strange confusion with a burning sleeve caught the attention of the revelers. Lord Lennox and the Freifrau had been discussing potential courtship for weeks, and John let out a judgmental laugh. "Lord Lennox, truly, Freifrau?" John comments between his laughs. "You can do much better," he affirms as he holds her hand and brings it softly to his lips. A pause quiets them both for a moment as he looks into her eyes, and he kisses her hand again, slightly lower, his lips pressed between the crevice between her first and second fingers, kissing the flesh there softly with his tongue, delicately exploring the space as though his tongue were between her legs. Matilda let out an involuntary gasp, and John gently turned her hand up to her palm. He pushed her sleeve up just a bit to reveal the bare of her wrist, and he kissed the pale skin, inhaling the sweet scent of her sandalwood and rose perfume, before taking his leave with a nod. Matilda found herself dizzied by the brash flirtation of her acquaintance and watched him, stunned, as he sauntered away. Lord Lennox briskly walked up to Matilda, brushing his scorched sleeve, muttering something quickly and in heavy Scots about Mistress Gilmore and something about his horse and the Vale. Matilda attempted to listen but found herself feeling almost intoxicated, and pressed her lips against her wrist as though she might feel Baron Bedford's lips against her own. She nodded absent-mindedly to Lennox as he vented to her about his frustrations while her mind and body buzzed with an unfamiliar ache.

After some time, Lord Lennox leaves again into the revel, finding himself in conversation with Mistress Gilmore, leaving Matilda alone again at her table. She removed her sleeves, feeling oddly warm, and allowing herself the smallest bit of impropriety. She could hear John's footsteps come up behind her again, and then she felt the tips of her fingers caressing the top of her shoulder, his tracing a trail with ease to her neck, and along the top of her back to her right shoulder, causing her skin to tremble with goosebumps. John invited himself next to her again, sitting even closer this time. Matilda looked down, shocked as his thigh pressed against hers. She wondered if this was why English women wore hoop skirts, to keep men at a distance. She did not, however, find herself wanting to move away; rather, she settled into his closeness. "Would you care to try something, Freifrau?" John asks her as he sets a handkerchief with blueberries on the table. "I have had blueberries before, Baron Bedford," Matilda responds curtly, turning slightly to face him. He chuckles and takes a slice of the yellow citrus cut on the table. "I think I can surprise you, if you would care to try and trust me," he says tenderly, touching her hand with the same tenderness. Matilda nodded, and John beamed at her choice. "Close your eyes, and open your mouth," he instructs. She inhaled, feeling nervous as her heart seemed to beat hard against her chest, and did so. Matilda felt the weight of two full blueberries placed gently on her tongue. Her eyebrows indicated her confusion, and John whispered to her to wait. John then took a slice of the citrus, squeezed the juice onto her tongue, and slowly touched her lips to the fruit's flesh, leaving a trace of sour liquid on her lips. John gently touched her chin, shutting her mouth as Matilda bit down on the blueberries, and the sweet and sour mixture from the fruits played like a harp in her mouth. She was delighted and could not stifle her laugh. John laughed with her as he ate the same. Matilda covered her mouth in surprise after her tongue touched the lemon from her lips, and with a sigh, she seemed to relax. Despite herself, she felt eager, excited. "Again," she demanded, opening her mouth and leaning toward him. John gently touched one hand to Matilda's face as he repeated his blueberry-lemon mixture. This time, however, after she closed her mouth, John leaned in close and pressed his lips against hers. Matilda was stunned to find herself melting in return to the kiss, returning it as eagerly as she demanded another bite of fruit. When they separated their gentle kiss, John looked at Matilda, and asked her, "Again?" to which she nodded, slowly, surprised at her willingness to consider such a risk. He kissed her again, his hands gently holding her face, then gently his hand moved down to her bare shoulder and then to her waist, pulling her in closer to him.

John kissed her cheek and along her jawline to her ear, where he caressed her earlobe playfully. "May I see your hair?" he asked, leaning back to take in her features. Matilda looked away, uncharacteristically shy, but slowly pulled back her blackwork embroidered coif and pulled down her long, fine brown hair. John touched her hair, admiring the woman in front of him, and allowed his fingers to run through her hair, getting caught in the tangles. Matilda blushed at her vulnerability, the intimacy sending flutters to her belly. John leaned in close to her again, "Would you care to come with me to my rooms?" he asked, serious, honest as his blue eyes met hers. Matilda felt caught in a whirlpool, guided by a part of her soul long since locked away. She nodded, curious, eager, overcome with excitement and unexplained assurance. John took her arm in his, holding her tightly as they walked up the road to the Inn, where he had several rooms secured.

The short journey to the Inn was a blur, and the moment they were alone, their building passions and desire seemed to overcome the pair. John kissed Matilda with confidence and eagerness, and Matilda allowed herself to feel the unfamiliar ache of longing in her chest and her womb. John took no time in pulling the laces along the sides of her bodice and opening the laces of the skirt, her Cranach gown spilling quickly down to the floor. Matilda, for her part, forwent her propriety, eagerly unbuckling the leather of his doublet and pushing it off his shoulders. John's confidence had moved to his yearning for her now, and it took all of his control to unlace Matilda's stays instead of cutting them off with the knife on his belt. Once unlaced, Matilda stepped and dropped them off her body, while John removed his trousers and codpiece. The bed waited behind them as they stood across from each other in only their chemises. John's member was swollen and tenting the long shirt, his body revealing his longing for Matilda. The question then lay with her. "We can stop any time, Matilda," John said, breathlessly, tasting her name for the first time, rolling it onto his tongue like the blueberries from moments before. Matilda reached down to the hem of her chemise and pulled it over her head, standing before John completely nude. Goosebumps covered her skin. "I wish to continue," she responded, just louder than a whisper, almost as though she was surprised herself that indeed she wished for this. Matilda's yearning matched John's; for the first time, she had chosen to follow her need, and she could not deny herself.

John pulled his chemise off and wasted no time, taking three steps closer to Matilda, kissing her lips fiercely and pulling her body against his. Their hands touched and explored each other's chest, back, and arms. Pushing her back onto the bed, he kissed along her body, gently licking and kissing her nipples before bringing himself down to her crevice between her legs. He kissed her, softly and sweetly gently before licking her swollen clit, causing Matilda to groan in pleasure. He massaged her clit with gentle and attentive precision, Matildas mouth to dropped open in shock, and growing lust. Before she could reach her climax, she grabbed on to Johns hair, holding tightly, causing him to moan with his pleasure against her swollen clit. She quivered as she came from his silver tongue, and John could not hold back. He pulled himself up and to the edge of the bed, grabbing Matilda by her hips and bringing her close to him.

John grabbed his throbbing cock, and pushed the head into her soaking wet entrance. "Do you still want this?" John asked Matilda, looking into her hazel eyes as she panted. "Please," she whined, "I want more," She groaned as she pushed her hips up, desperately trying to encourage John to push himself inside her. John needed no more encouragement, thrusting slowly inch by inch into Matilda's waiting body. They groaned together in pleasure, gasping as he filled her with his length. "Gott in Himmel," Matilda whispered as John thrust in and out of her, kissing her. "You are astonishing," he groans into her ear, grabs her hair, pulling it just as she did his. Matilda's voice became more high-pitched in her groans of pleasure, her hips raising to meet his and pulling on his hair once again, "Gott in Himmel," she groans again, with more surety. John picks up speed, groaning in his own pleasure as the room fills with sounds of their ecstasy. John reached between Matilda's legs, his thumb massaging with gentle pressure in circles around her swollen and throbbing clit. Her pleasure mounted, and her breaths became shorter. Matilda bites down onto John's shoulder as she feels her second orgasm approahcing "Gott in Himmel!" she calls out again as her pussy starts to milk John's cock while she cums from his passionate thrusts. Her release sends him over, groaning as he orgasms in response to hers as the two release themselves to their physical pleasure. They stayed for a moment, John's member slowly receding from its swelling, and the two kissed each other with playful joy.

John slowly pulled himself out of Matilda's body, both of them gasping as they separated. After, they lay side by side, breathing deeply, allowing their bodies to slow down from their escapade. John pulls Matilda close and kisses her again, and they fall asleep, Matilda having not been in the arms of a man in years.

When she awoke, John was not beside her, and she felt some relief from this, unsure of how she would respond to waking beside a man again. On the bedside table, there was a peach colored rose and a missive that said " to the start of more passionate connections," and two lemon-blueberry scones for her breakfast.

Freifrau Matilda von Gotter, visiting with the English court on progress, watched the evening frivolities alone at a small table at the festival. This was her first May Day in England, and she found herself continually stunned at the lustful behavior of the English. She understood that lust occurred among men, although she was hidden away in a castle with Amalia von Kleve in her home in the Germanies, this would have been unheard of for women of her station. Matilda took a long drink of her Radler, a lemon and beer mix, from the stein she brought from her home, allowing the cool liquid to refresh her and calm her nerves. It was important to keep herself collected and focused. It was her duty to put aside her desires for the benefit of her family, so she resided herself to watching villagers and nobles alike romping and reveling together- she could never allow herself such freedom, but how nice it must be to connect with others so freely. Music played, and men and women laughed so loudly that they drowned out individual conversations, leaving only hints of the topics seen by the body language of couples in each other's arms or friends playing games and pranks.

A calm voice interrupted her mesmerized focus; "Good evening, Freifrau", said Sir John Russell, Baron of Bedford, through a smirk, sitting beside her at the otherwise empty table. "What keeps you from enjoying the festivities?" he asks, leaning in slightly closer to her. Matilda looked at him, wide-eyed, shocked that he would be so bold- a symptom of the holiday, she figured. "I'm enjoying them very well from here", she responded stiffly. John smiled warmly at her. "I enjoyed dancing passacalle with you earlier this eve", he mentioned with a tone of mischief, referencing the Italian dance that displays a romantic meeting in a Venetian street. The indication of the licentious promenade caused her to flush suddenly. Clearing her throat, she responded, "I did as well, Baron Bedford", quietly hoping he wouldn't notice her reddening cheeks in the candlelight.

An interruption of some clamorous shouts in the group before them broke their attentions, as Matthew Stuart, Lord Lennox, seemed to cause a commotion in the group, and some strange confusion with a burning sleeve caught the attention of the revelers. Lord Lennox and the Freifrau had been discussing potential courtship for weeks, and John let out a judgmental laugh. "Lord Lennox, truly, Freifrau?" John comments between his laughs. "You can do much better", he affirms as he holds her hand and brings it softly to his lips. A pause quiets them both for a moment as he looks into her eyes, and he kisses her hand again, slightly lower, his lips pressed between the crevice between her first and second fingers, kissing the flesh there softly with his tongue, delicately exploring the space as though his tongue were between her legs. Matilda let out an involuntary gasp, and John gently turned her hand up to her palm. He pushed her sleeve up just a bit to reveal the bare of her wrist, and he kissed the pale skin, inhaling the sweet scent of her sandalwood and rose perfume, before taking his leave with a nod. Matilda found herself dizzied by the brash flirtation of her acquaintance and watched him, stunned, as he sauntered away. Lord Lennox briskly walked up to Matilda, brushing his scorched sleeve, muttering something quickly and in heavy Scots about Mistress Gilmore and something about his horse and the Vale. Matilda attempted to listen but found herself feeling almost intoxicated, and pressed her lips against her wrist as though she might feel Baron Bedford's lips against her own. She nodded absent-mindedly to Lennox as he vented to her about his frustrations while her mind and body buzzed with an unfamiliar ache.

After some time, Lord Lennox leaves again into the revel, finding himself in conversation with Mistress Gilmore, leaving Matilda alone again at her table. She removed her sleeves, feeling oddly warm, and allowing herself the smallest bit of impropriety. She could hear John's footsteps come up behind her again, and then she felt the tips of her fingers caressing the top of her shoulder, his tracing a trail with ease to her neck, and along the top of her back to her right shoulder, causing her skin to tremble with goosebumps. John invited himself next to her again, sitting even closer this time. Matilda looked down, shocked as his thigh pressed against hers. She wondered if this was why English women wore hoop skirts, to keep men at a distance. She did not, however, find herself wanting to move away; rather, she settled into his closeness. "Would you care to try something, Freifrau?" John asks her as he sets a handkerchief with blueberries on the table. "I have had blueberries before, Baron Bedford," Matilda responds curtly, turning slightly to face him. He chuckles and takes a slice of the yellow citrus cut on the table. "I think I can surprise you, if you would care to try and trust me", he says tenderly, touching her hand with the same tenderness. Matilda nodded, and John beamed at her choice. "Close your eyes, and open your mouth", he instructs. She inhaled, feeling nervous as her heart seemed to beat hard against her chest, and did so. Matilda felt the weight of two full blueberries placed gently on her tongue. Her eyebrows indicated her confusion, and John whispered to her to wait. John then took a slice of the citrus, squeezed the juice onto her tongue, and slowly touched her lips to the fruit's flesh, leaving a trace of sour liquid on her lips. John gently touched her chin, shutting her mouth as Matilda bit down on the blueberries, and the sweet and sour mixture from the fruits played like a harp in her mouth. She was delighted and could not stifle her laugh. John laughed with her as he ate the same. Matilda covered her mouth in surprise after her tongue touched the lemon from her lips, and with a sigh, she seemed to relax. Despite herself, she felt eager, excited. "Again," she demanded, opening her mouth and leaning toward him. John gently touched one hand to Matilda's face as he repeated his blueberry-lemon mixture. This time, however, after she closed her mouth, John leaned in close and pressed his lips against hers. Matilda was stunned to find herself melting in return to the kiss, returning it as eagerly as she demanded another bite of fruit. When they separated their gentle kiss, John looked at Matilda, and asked her, "Again?", to which she nodded, slowly, surprised at her willingness to consider such a risk. He kissed her again, his hands gently holding her face, then gently his hand moved down to her bare shoulder and then to her waist, pulling her in closer to him.