Blacsmith

The heat shimmered over the forge, red embers glowing against the dull crags and valleys of charcoal as yet unconsumed by the fire. Several thick rods of iron protruded from the forge, the ends heated to a deep cherry red ready for the last few blasts from the bellows that would bring them to a glowing white heat.

Over at the anvil, the smith worked at another piece, rhythmically striking the malleable metal with a large hammer, shaping it from anonymous rod to a sinuous, twisting implement, the ancient alchemy of man, fire and imagination.

I leant on the bellows, watching him as I rested for a moment, loving the ripple of muscle in his broad chest as he worked. Fearless of sparks he wore only heavy trousers and a thick leather apron, his chest bare and lightly sheened with sweat in the glow of the fire.

His movements were powerful, yet it was so obvious that he was only using a fraction of the muscle and skill at his command, the hammer blows had an almost languid quality, there was no increase in breath rate, no urgency though each blow fell deftly exactly where he felt it should.

His concentration on the task in hand was absolute, I could almost see the metal taking shape in his mind's eye a moment before the hammer landed, every time exactly where he had envisaged it, his strong hands constantly rearranging the tong held metal to receive the blow.

I loved watching him work, even though I had been here all winter and had helped every day in the forge, I didn't tire of the work. There was a knack to the bellows, a way to lean your whole weight into them which took much of the strain out, and after the first week when I had been so tired after each day's work that I slept like the dead as soon as we had eaten, I quickly hardened to the task and found time to watch and enjoy.

He never said much, though he always spoke kindly and I'd yet to hear him raise his voice to anyone. If a rare customer disagreed with him over a price or the timing of a job, the smith would just stand there with his arms folded across his chest and regard them thoughtfully, and soon enough an agreement was reached.

Now he plunged the iron back into the fire, and needing no cue I turned back to the bellows, using both hands to bear down on the handle, letting my weight carry the heavy beam down, compressing the air and forcing it through the forge. Quickly the metal started to glow again, and I found myself mesmerized as always by the bright glow of the fire.

No matter what the weather, inside the forge it was always warm, and I worked in a short sleeved linen dress and a leather apron. Putting my back into the task I soon felt my body glaze with sweat, making the thin linen cling tightly to my skin. I knew the smith watched me as I worked the bellows, just as I watched him as he shaped the iron, but as he had not made any indication of being interested in more I felt I could not press myself on him, though I confess I lusted after him more and more as the winter passed.

He took the piece from the fire with stout tongs and turned again to shaping the metal. Quickly the final form became clear now, a slim shepherd's crook with a shape designed to slip round the neck of a wayward sheep or lamb and turn them back to the shepherd's bidding. Satisfied at last with his work, the smith plunged the crook into a bucket of water, tempering and cooling the work, raising steam in a hissing cloud.

Recognizing a good time for a break, I walked over to the door of the forge and stood in a shaft of thin sunlight that fell in at the open doorway, breathing the clean air and luxuriating in the feel of fresh air on my sweat dampened skin. After months of cold, damp weather, today it felt as though spring had finally come, and the day was warm even outside the forge.

Stripping off my apron I stretched in the doorframe, feeling my muscles unwind, loving the feel of the breeze that brought scents of grass and may blossom with it. I felt, rather than saw the smith watching me, and I realized that the sunlight must be blazing right through my thin dress showing him every curve of my body. The realization made my nipples tighten abruptly, I could feel them stretching the damp fabric, and knew they must be highly visible to him.

I turned, very slightly, trying to make it appear unconscious to show my shape off to him the better. I felt compelled to offer him the same voluptuous pleasure that I got in watching his body as he worked. The very thought made my chest tighten and my breath catch, and I turned again to see him staring more openly than ever before at me, his eyes appraising me just as I'd seen him do a thousand times with a project that inspired him.

I looked him in the eye and smiled at him, a little shyly, for although we had lived close together for months now there had been no intimacy beyond the sharing of daily tasks, but I knew that this was as fine a time as any to see whether my lust was requited, or whether I would be quietly refused.

His eyes smiled back at me, then his gaze slipped slowly downwards, tracing the line of my chin and throat, gazing openly at the hard pebbles of my nipples, then lower, and I realized that the sunlit door behind me must be showing him every detail of my legs and hips as well. My breath caught again, just a little gasp, and I know he noticed. His own posture was no longer as calmly relaxed as usual, there was a tension in the way he held his stomach muscles, and I wondered if he was having as much trouble controlling his breathing as I was.

I took a few steps towards him, then suddenly flustered and fearful of refusal, I caught up a jug of water and offered it to him. He drank deeply then handed it to me, I took a drink myself, suddenly aware of how dry my mouth was, then went to say something insignificant to cover my confusion. He stopped me with a finger laid gently to my lips as he took the jug away and placed it on the workbench.

Standing now just a step from me, he towered over me by well over a head, and he looked down at me, capturing my eyes with his own, deep brown eyes that seemed both warm and concerned at the same time. I reached for his hands, pulling him a little closer, reveling in the spicy odour of his skin, not at all unpleasant despite the tang of metal and charcoal.

My breath caught again, this time I didn't try to hide it, and my heart fluttered wildly in by breast as his hands clasped mine, accepting the contact. For a moment I drowned in his eyes, then very gently he bent to kiss me, tentative at first as if he too was unsure whether he was reading the moment correctly, then as I responded, a firmer kiss, warm and sweet, long and skilful. I slipped my hands from his and allowed my hands to brush upwards, tracking the contours of his arms and shoulders until I could wrap my arms around his neck and deepen the kiss even more.

Surprised at my own daring, I flickered my tongue against his, and was rewarded by the feel of those strong arms tightening around my back, pulling my body tight against his, making me more aware than ever just how firmly muscled he was, how powerful the shoulders, how flat the belly, and how my own thinly clad body could feel every muscle of his as though we were already naked.

I think we realized this at the same time, his leather apron barely disguised the growing bulge there, and his hands slipped down my back to lightly clasp my buttocks, discovering what he must already have known, that I wore nothing under the thin cloth dress.

We broke apart and stood, smiling sheepishly at each other for a moment as we regained our breath. He took my hand and pulled me towards the door, out into the sunlit may morning and the scent of flowers. Still saying nothing, we walked a short way until we picked up a familiar path and headed for the stream that ran close by the house providing water for the forge and our other needs. There was a small natural pool beneath some trees, secluded and with a natural shingle base where we did laundry and fetched water.

Reaching it, he stripped off his apron and pulled me to him once more, kissing me with a rising passion that was matched by the growing hardness of his manhood pressed between us. I sensed a difference in him, no longer was he testing my response, he had determined what he could make of me and, like the metal that he shaped so deftly, I had no doubts that he knew exactly what to do with me next.

Still, I was surprised when he swept me up suddenly in his arms and walked with me into the deepest part of the pool, with us both still wearing our shoes and clothes, and ducked me under. Laughing and spluttering, I surfaced and made a wild grab for him, and was splashed for my trouble. Ducking his head under he released the thong that kept his hair back, and rinsed out all the dust and sweat in the cool water. Grateful for the chance to bathe, I followed suit, bending down to release my shoes and throwing them onto the back to dry then ducking under to rinse my own hair and face, feeling the refreshing water swirling my hair around me.

He kissed me again, waist deep as we stood in the pool, then ran his hands over my soaked linen, skillfully brushing my nipples with his thumbs to make them stand even tighter and higher than before, then unlacing the dress and peeling if from me so that I stood naked before him. I heard him gasp as he looked on me fully for the first time, his eyes alight with passion, his hands momentarily unsure where to touch me first.

I stroked his chest, loving the contrast of the powerful muscles and the supple skin, his own small nipples tightened too as I slid my cool damp hands over them, and my heart flipped again, even as I felt a warmth grow between my legs. I ran my hands across his belly, tight musculature under soft skin, and noticed for the first time the trail of fine black hair below his navel, which I trailed my finger down until I reached the fastening of his trousers.

Just for a second I hesitated, I had fantasized for so long about how it would be to undress him that the moment almost seemed impossible. Despite the cool water the bulge in his trousers was impressive, and for a moment I felt nervous as I started to peel the cloth away from his body. As I rolled down his clothing his manhood sprang into view, thick and long and surprisingly smooth, standing erect amongst a dense thatch of hair.

He finished stripping off the trousers and we stood together, naked in the water whilst our working clothes floated forgotten in the pool. Our hands caressed each other, the water tempering our ardour long enough for us to enjoy exploring each others bodies. I delighted in the curve of his buttocks, the feel of his lightly haired thighs under my hand, and shivered delightedly as his own hands discovered how to pinch my nipples in just the way to make them tighten impossibly, then swept down my flanks to explore my thighs, buttocks and the narrow triangle of hair between my legs.

Braver now, I lightly ran my hand along his cock and felt its heat through the water, amazingly, it increased in size with my touch, and I briefly feared its girth until his own exploring hands made me realize how hot my own juices were flowing. One hand cupped my mound whilst his strong, clever fingers explored me, one dipped gently inside me, making me cry out softly with desire, and I felt another hot rush of fluid as my body prepared itself for him. I felt as though my body was becoming a furnace, the water no longer quenched me and I needed my blacksmith to begin work on me.

He bent his head to my breast and sucked hard on my nipple, rolling it with his tongue, sensing just how much I could take then teasing me just a little further. I had never felt sensations quite like this, the cool water, his hands finding more and more warmth in me, the blazing heat of his cock pressing against me and the insistent tug of his mouth and tongue, I felt as though my legs would no longer hold me, and as if on cue he swept me up in his arms and carried me out of the pool, laying me down on the sweet spring grass in a patch of dappled sunlight.

He knelt above me, savouring the moment, taking in every inch of my body with his eyes and then with his hands. He kissed me again, this time using some of his weight to hold me down so that I had to wrap my arms around him tightly and press every inch of my body against his. Our skin felt exquisite pressed together, the water was drying fast and clean skin and damp hair tangled together as we lay entwined. The heat from his cock burned my skin, I wanted to feel him inside me and tried to part my thighs for him, but he was not yet ready for the final act. Working his way known my body he knelt over me, kissing my breast, belly and thighs, in a daze I felt him spread my legs and nuzzle between them. I was so wet now that his fingers slipped easily into me, two this time, as his tongue gently probed my engorged nub, flicking it lightly, teasing it whist his fingers massaged deep within me, making me cry out in amazed rapture when the first spasm rolled over me and I felt my inner muscles clench and squeeze around his skilled fingers.

He brought his hand up dripping with my juices and encouraged me to taste myself, amazed at my own daring I was pleasantly surprised at the taste, and emboldened, moved to return the favour, pushing him onto his back so that I could straddle him and kiss my own way along his jawline, nibbling an ear in passing, and grazing my teeth lightly over his firm shoulder.

I traced a line down his belly with my tongue, circling his navel and following that tantalizing trail of hair to the base of his thick cock. Hesitant for a second, I breathed the scent of him deeply into my lungs, loving the clean musk of him. Lightly trailing my tongue along his manhood I tasted the salty pre-cum at the tip, and suddenly greedy, enfolded him in my mouth and feasted on the texture and size of him. I could barely fit him all in my mouth and used my hands as well to manipulate the satiny skin and massage the heavy balls and the delicate skin around them. Glancing up at his face I was delighted to see the same look of amazement as I'm sure he'd seen on my face not long before.

My body felt like a furnace, I was the forge awaiting the thick iron rod and the skilful touch of my smith, and he sensed the same moment for he pulled me towards him as I surfaced for breath and kissed me deeply, our mingled tastes a revelation to us both.

Looking me in the eye, he rolled me onto my back and spread my legs wide apart with his strong hands. I loved the feel of the smooth callused palms, evidence of the hours of work he did, and how soft the skin of my inner thighs felt under them. His cock brushed against me and was immediately coated in my own slick juices, my belly tightened with anticipation and I cried out as he thrust strongly into me, in one quick, decisive movement that left me gasping for breath and amazed that he had fitted.

His arms were tight about me as we started to move together, the same belly muscles I tightened to work the bellows tightened now as I thrust against him, his strong, steady strokes timed much as he timed the hammer blows when forging hot iron. His muscles again sheened with a slight sweat as we laboured together, matching our bodies one against the other, the earth beneath us the anvil on which our passion was forged.

It seemed for a short, delirious time as though we would continue forever, but I soon felt the fluttering sensations becoming more insistent and I thrust against him with increased ardour. His breathing was hoarse now, his hands urgent on my skin and his cock so impossibly large that my universe filled with nothing more that the awareness of his body joined with mine. A few more long, delicious strokes and I felt his balls tighten and his seed shoot hot and abundant into my body. The spasms rolled over me again, my muscles clenching over and over again, my own hammer strokes falling on his rod until I was too weak to do more than collapse against him, safe in his strong arms, and listen to our heartbeats slowly return to normal.