*Note: I am a great fan of these books but those who have read the series know that Laura is a child at the beginning of the series. I have taken the liberty of making Laura eighteen years old so that she can tell her story of learning how to become a loving wife on the prairie. I am also using the visuals of the actors that portrayed the members of the Little House community in the television series.*
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So many thoughts flew through Laura's mind that night that it was hard to get to sleep. The vision of Mr. Oleson cumming replayed over and over and each time, adrenalin tightened her chest and warmth flooded her pussy. It was exciting to think that her touch had made Mr. Oleson feel so good that he had cum. She wondered if Almanzo would react the same way. She closed her eyes, allowing her hands to steal across her breasts and shivered as her fingers encircled her sensitive nubs.
"What are you doing?"
Mary's harsh whisper broke her from her reverie and she stilled her hands. "Sorry."
"Did you have your first lesson today?"
"Yes."
"Tell me about it."
"No, Mary. It's not fair."
"Not fair? Not fair to whom?"
"To you, Mary. It's not like describing a doll or a sunset. It's different. It can't be described."
Mary huffed angrily and turned away from her. "You just don't want to tell me."
"I do, Mary." Laura put her arms around her sister and hugged her warmly. "When you and Adam get engaged, you will experience the same thing."
"Will I?" Her voice betrayed the uncertainty in her heart. "Will I get lessons, too, even though I'm blind?"
"Your blindness doesn't mean a thing, Mary. And besides, Ma said that we all have to learn how to be loving wives and that will include you."
Her words seemed to calm her sister and Laura settled in behind her, falling into a dreamless sleep that lasted until the roosters crowed the break of day. She breathlessly waited for her mother to tell her that they were going to the next lesson but breakfast and lunch passed without fanfare. When Pa went out to tend the field and Laura's afternoon chores were done, she washed up at the creek and went into the house to see if there was something she could help her mother with. The most wonderful smell met her when she opened the door.
"What are you making, Ma?"
She didn't need to ask because four pies sat on the table, steam issuing from their crusty slits and Ma wiped her hands on her apron. "Apple pies. When these cool, we have to take one of them over to Miss Beadle."
