It was fair to say Miss Buxomly was taken with the young fellow almost right away. A boy her own age, or close enough. Couldn't have been more than nineteen, twenty, twenty-one at the most. Short, messy blond hair, and a light beard of an almost reddish yellow color. Tall and handsome, with high cheekbones and a strong, chiseled jawline. Beautiful blue eyes the very same color as hers.
And that smile. Oh how it made her swoon. How her girlhood tingled when she gazed upon his pearly whites. He had particularly good teeth for a commoner.
She had always believed in live at first sight, and she believed she had found it.
The young man's name was Beau Clark, and he had been hired as Beatrice's new rising instructor. Beatrice was about as pretty as a Southern debutante could be. Flowing, curly golden locks, skin pure as the driven snow, with many delightful freckles adorning her nearly flawless face. She was a very well-endowed young woman, blessed in both bosom and bottom, and she knew it very well. As unlikely as it sounds, she was one of four quadruplets, all equally stunning, one being a brother, the other two sisters.
Beatrice had come of marrying age just last month, and her father, the patriarch of the wealthy Buxomly plantation family, was already setting her up with men twice her age that she had no interest in. He wanted her to marry for material gain, whereas she was more interested in physical qualities, and personality as well, of course. Somewhat. To an extent.
However, this boy Beau good be mean as a wildcat and she would still be have it bad for him. He was just her type. He was her dream man. She knew how dreadfully inappropriate it was, but she simply could not resist Beau's boyish charms. Surely, she it would not matter if she pursued a harmless summer fling with the boy? Nothing too extreme, maybe a kiss here and there. As long as no one were to find out, she could indulge in a little girlish fun.
However, there was a certain flaw, if you could call it that, that all women of Beatrice's bloodline carried. All Buxomly women were cunning, clever, charming, sharp, and stunningly beautiful. However, they also lacked restraint. They were all infamously brazen. They spoke their minds, and were rarely, if ever, subtle in their wishes and desires. They acted on impulse, and thought little of consequences, especially regarding matters of, shall we say, "affection." The lovely ladies of the Buxom blood line had a long history of letting certain carnal temptations dictate their minds and bodies when interacting with an attractive individual they found themselves fond of.
To put it plainly, the Buxom women were shameless and insatiable whores.
And Beatrice was certainly no different. The problem was Buxomly women aren't exactly aware of this little genetic quirk that they all carry, and it is usually up to a family member, usually a woman who could guide them, to explain their little family flaw. However, this particular branch of Buxomly's was quite isolated in the Southern rural countryside. Beatrice's mother was not of the bloodline, and her boorish father was an obnoxiously ignorant man, so Beatrice and her poor sisters would have to figure it out the hard way.
And Beatrice would be the first into the fire.
Beatrice was helped up onto her horse by the strapping young Beau, who she was sure to give a very road smile as he pushed on her from her bottom to get her up there. Beatrice blushed when she felt pressure on her buttocks.
"Thank you, my dear Mister Clark," she said with a girlish giggle.
"Sure thing, ma'am, now, let's get you goin'," he said, climbing up onto his own horse.
She batted her eyes at the boy, but he seemed not to notice as he led her on. Beatrice let out a sigh as she followed along. The man, as stunningly handsome as he was, was quite naïve. He didn't seem to ever catch on to the signs Beatrice had been throwing his way. Normally, a woman her age would be accompanied by their mother or family member when she was in the company of a man to make sure nothing frisky occurred. However, her mother was a useless drunk and her father was a fool, so she was left unchaperoned with this good looking boy.
Combine that with a beautiful woman of the buxomly bloodline, so famously lacking in carnal restraint, and disaster was sure to follow.
Beatrice had tried everything she could to get the man to take an interest in her, but he was either too pure for this world or a bit dimwitted. Either way, Miss Buxomly would to make her fondness for him even more painfully obvious, it appeared. She decided to just be honest with him. It was very unladylike and shameful, especially for a woman in a position as high as hers, but she simply didn't have the patience for all this nonsense. It would be humiliating if h her, but how could he ever manage to do that? She was pretty as a peach and had the figure of a Greek goddess. There was no refusing a woman of her physical caliber, not unless the man was a homosexual.
As they rode along the dirt trail, she kept ahead so Clark could observe and study her posture. It was a beautiful summer day in the humid state Louisiana. Sweating was an inevitability. After a couple minutes of riding, Beatrice spotted a large tree offering plenty of shade.
"Let's stop there for a rest. I'm quite tired," Beatrice said, pointing over in its direction.
"Sure thing, ma'am," nodded Clark.
The couple came to a stop under the tree, and Beatrice climbed off her horse and tied it around the base. Clark did the same, then wiped the sweat off his forehead.
"Whew, steamy day today, ain't it?" he said.
"Oh yes, very steamy," Beatrice said, revealing her hand fan and waving herself off.
She watched Clark looking in his saddle bags for some water. Beatrice let out a sigh and crossed her arms across her bountiful breasts.
"Where did you say you were from, Mister Clark?"
"Missouri, ma'am," he said, fetching his canteen of water and taking a swig.
