Renaissance Man

"Enjoy the faire sir," the ticket taker said as she tore Martin's ticket and gave him back part of it. He smiled in return and doffed his feathered hat to her.

He always loved the Renaissance Faire, and he was glad he finally had a new outfit to wear. He had paid a respected craftswoman quite well to create an accurate and comfortable outfit. Traditional materials and techniques were used and every stitch was done by hand. When he was growing up, his parents had been involved with the Society for Creative Anachronism. His mother had been a well-known period clothier herself, and while he never learned how create anything, he knew how to recognize something that was well made. His eye for good outfits never failed him, and he found himself immediately categorizing all of those he saw around him as he made his way into the faire grounds. It was a perfect day in his mind, overcast, grey, and cool enough to make bulky layered clothing comfortable.

It wasn't an outfit that initially caught his eye, however as he made his way past the crowded entrance area. At the edge of the crowd he saw a young woman standing with her phone out looking quite annoyed. Her hair was tucked away inside a muffin hat of a light blue color that contrasted very nicely with her sun darkened, olive skin. Her dark brown eyebrows gave a hint of the color of the hair she had hidden away. Her eyes were a light grey color that seemed to flicker with hints of blue in the light. Martin was quite pleased to see she wore little or no makeup. Too many attendees seemed to think excessive modern makeup went hand in hand with their costume of choice. By his own estimation though, this young lady had no need of makeup. He guessed she might be in her early to mid-twenties, which probably wasn't overly young to his own thirty years, but he always felt older when he dressed for the faire.

Once he finally pulled his gaze from her face, he looked over her dress. It was quite traditional for a period outfit. The skirt of was a light blue to match her cap and it had a simple dark blue trim along the bottom. Her bodice was tight fitting and a dark blue to match the trim on her skirt with white laces going up the back. There was no pattern to the cloth, but the neckline had lace that seemed to match the grey of her eyes. Beneath the bodice she wore a plain white, sleeved blouse. Far too many women went without a blouse in order show off their assets. This young woman was perhaps not as blessed in that department, though Martin felt she had no need to show off. Her outfit was plain, but appropriate to a middle class or working woman of the era. It was also plainly handmade with care and attention to detail. She was stunning and he decided he had to meet this woman, and walked briskly toward her.

"Excuse me, m'lady," he said smoothly as he arrived, "you seem quite wroth, is there ought I can do to aid you?"

"What," she looked up startled with her forehead still creased in consternation. She went silent as she looked him over. "I'm sorry, do I know you," she said in confusion.

"No, m'lady, I am saddened that I have not had that distinct pleasure. Martin", he said with a smile and removing his hat with a slight bow, "Martin Taylor."

At last she smiled at him and Martin thought he would melt from the beauty of it. "I... that is... my escort seems to have wandered off with her young charges and abandoned me. My name is Charlotte Kosta, sir," she said as she offered her hand.

Martin took her hand and kissed it swiftly and gently. "Worrisome indeed, dear Charlotte. We dare not have such a beautiful young lady wandering about alone. Allow me to offer my services as escort."

She blushed at his compliment, looked down at her dress, and then at the people flowing around us. "Not so beautiful as most, sir, or at least over dressed in comparison."

"They would all be found wanting in comparison to you m'lady. Shall we proceed and find what diversions they have to offer here?"

Charlotte glanced at her phone once more, sighed, and then looked back to Martin. "Why not... I mean... Certainly sir," she said as she offered her arm. Martin took it feeling a small shiver of thrill run through him as he did so.

They wandered inside and went from shop to shop for an hour, chatting as they went. He learned that Charlotte was an accountant, but spent her spare time making clothes for people that came to the faire. Martin told her about his career creating websites for small companies. Eventually, they found a comedy show that was due to start a few minutes after they arrived so they took the opportunity to sit for a while. Martin had seen it before and took the opportunity to talk to his new acquaintance when it became apparent she wasn't really watching the show either.

"Your dress is lovely," he said. "I take it you made it yourself?"

"I... but... how could you possibly know that," she said in surprise.

"I have an eye for clothing of this sort. My mother made it for many years. Your dress shows the same detail and care, the mark of someone who loves the work even more than the result."

"But that doesn't mean I made it, it could be my mother, sister, aunt..."

"Father, brother, uncle," he interrupted her dismissively.

"I... I'm sorry... but still, it could have been made by anyone."

"It fits you perfectly and the colors match your skin and your eyes. Even if your mother made it, it would not suit you as well."

Charlotte blushed slightly, but smiled at him all the same. "You don't think it's plain next to all these noble's gowns, sexy pirates, and chainmail bikinis?"

"Men love mystery and allure, m'lady. It makes our imaginations run wild and encourages a more fervent pursuit," Martin said with a grin.

Charlotte laughed and smiled at him. "Ah, so your true motives are revealed, sir Martin? Am I to be pursued merely to calm your feverish mind?"

Martin took her hand and kissed it again. "Pursued with honest attraction my dear, but pursued only at the behest of the lady. Forgive me if I am too forward, but I find you most enchanting."

Charlotte blushed and looked down bashfully. She covered Martins hand with her own, but didn't look up. "Sorry to break the spell here, but how much of this is just playacting Mr. Taylor? I confess, I find myself attracted to you as well, but..." she trailed off hesitating. "How much of this is really you? How much of it is really me," she asked looking up with a smile.

"Attraction requires no reason and no amount of playacting can hide it, we simply feel it and act on it or not. And as I said, only at the lady's pleasure."

They watched the show in relative quiet after that, only interrupted by the occasional laugh or smile. With pleasant surprise, Martin found Charlotte moving closer to him and her brief touches on his hands and arm became more frequent. When the show ended, they resumed their systematic circuit of the shops. At one they found roses made of metal and scented with oil from the real thing. He bought her a blue one to match the colors of her dress, which she thanked him for with a kiss on his cheek. He was sure she'd seen them before, and in fact was quickly convinced she had been to the faire numerous times before. Another hour and they were both ready for lunch and some cold drinks. Martin waited patiently while Charlotte located what she wanted and then waited in line to get them both bread bowls with soup and a few bottles of water. When they looked around for a place to sit, they realized just how crowded the faire was.

"Follow me," she said with a wink and led him to the edge of the grounds. She looked around to make sure no one was looking their way and then led him behind one of the buildings and into the trees of the surrounding woods. He followed her for a couple of minutes and they emerged in a small clearing in the trees. She went across it to one of the trees and seated herself comfortably against the base in what was obviously a well-known spot, and then gestured for Martin to join her.

"I used to work here," she said. "I know all the little hidey holes around the entire area, but this is the oldest and no one really knows about it anymore. She crossed her legs beneath her dress and took the food he passed to her.

"Thank you for sharing it with me," he said with a smile. They ate in silence, but away from the crowd the tension between them seemed amplified and he found himself looking at her more often and smiling when she caught him doing it. When they were finished, he set aside the food and opened another bottle of water to share. Charlotte finally stretched her legs out in front of her in the grass and her naked feet appeared from within the dress. Martin's sharply indrawn breath was audible to them both. "You... you're barefoot," he whispered.

"I am but a poor laborer sir Martin, and I can not afford the extravagant footwear of the higher born ladies, though I confess, I love the feel of grass on the soles of my feet." To emphasize this, she wiggled her toes amid the green blades, and Martin found it inextricably erotic in a way he'd never experienced before. So much of her was hidden from sight, even the neckline of her dress was modest, revealing only her neck and a small area of her chest with not a glimpse of cleavage to be seen. To have her reveal her feet to him felt personal and intimate.

"They are quite... alluring," Martin said quietly.

"They are quite filthy," replied Charlotte with a giggle and more toe waggling. Martin was struck with an impulse and quickly snatched up the bottle of water and knelt at her feet. He poured some of the water into one of his hands and began to rub her right foot slowly and carefully. He cleaned it and massaged it for several minutes. When he was done, he dried it with the sleeve of his shirt, knowing it would be dirty for the effort, but knowing it was worth it. He then raised her foot a few inches off the ground so that he could bend down and place a very soft and gentle kiss on the inside of her arch. He felt her shiver when he did it, but she voiced no protest. Then he repeated the process on her other foot, and again felt her shiver at the touch of his lips to her arch. He didn't once look up at her during the entire process, so intent was he on his work. As he set her foot back down he finally looked up with a bashful smile.

"You are a most unusual man, Martin Taylor." Martin blushed and looked down, but Charlotte leaned forward and put her hand over his. "A most delightfully and wonderfully unusual man," she said earnestly. Martin returned to his seat at her side and Charlotte rotated across him and kissed him. It was long and passionate and her taste lingered on his lips after she finally broke it. He was caught in her eyes for a long moment before smiling and breaking away from her gaze. The silence between them grew long and began to feel slightly awkward. Charlotte had pulled her legs up and her feet had disappeared once again beneath her dress and her hands rested on her knees.

"I fear," she said at last, "that you have neglected the matter of dessert, sir Martin."

"Just as well," Martin replied quickly as he looked at her, "my appetite has moved beyond food." He tried not to look, he tried and failed miserably, as his gaze shifted from her face to the place where he imagined her legs joined beneath her dress. Her eyes widened in response, but thankfully he saw no fear or rebuke in the look.

"Your gaze has grown feverish indeed sir Martin," she whispered. "Am I to blame my poor feet for this reaction?"

"It is you, and not your feet, that stirs my desire m'lady... every bit of you that lingers on my lips, every bit that I can glimpse in those beautiful eyes, and every bit I can hear in your voice."

"Quite bold sir Martin," she whispered with a touch of rebuke.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be..." but before Martin could finish his apology he looked down. His eyes fell on her hands and he watched in surprise as she simply closed them into fists pulling the fabric of her dress into them. It pulled the hem up an inch, just enough to reveal her toes. Martin looked sharply back to her face.

"Really... are you sure," he asked in hesitation. Her only answer was to repeat the action and draw the dress another inch upward. Martin quickly moved to kneel at her feet again and he saw her spread her legs beneath the dress as he did so. He bent down and began to kiss her feet as his hands led the way up her legs, drawing the dress with them.

Before the dress rode high enough to reveal anything to his eyes, he dove his head beneath the hem of her dress and plunged himself into darkness. As he moved to her knees he noted appreciatively that even her undergarments were accurate and hand made. Charlotte eagerly lifted her hips when his hands found and undid the tie and pulled them off her legs. He could smell her odor and his excitement grew when he realized the undergarment was already quite wet. He snaked one arm out from under the dress to deposit the garment on the grass beside her and then resumed his slow, kissing ascent of her legs. At the halfway point of her thighs he laid down on the ground and placed her legs over his shoulders. He finished his journey and began to add his tongue to the explorations of her skin, and he advanced purely by touch keeping his eyes closed even to the small bit of light that managed to sneak into her skirt.

"Please... Martin... this is torturous," Charlotte said.

He answered by immediately stroking her pussy from bottom to top with his tongue and felt her buck against him in response. He felt one of her hands settle on the back of his head through the dress, but it felt light and hesitant. He kissed and licked the exterior of her sex eagerly and soon noted that she was completely shaven. It was the first modern aspect to her classic attire and appearance, but one which enflamed his desire and urged him onward. Charlotte's touch grew more insistent and he finally relented and parted her lips with his tongue and stroked her from bottom to top on the inside, grazing her clit at the end. Again, she bucked against him and he felt her hand curl into her dress and his hair. He repeated the maneuver several times before putting his hands under what felt like a delightfully plump ass and lifted her a few inches off the ground. Then he slowly but forcefully fed his tongue to her hole until he was pressed tightly against her.

"Oh my god," Charlotte said in a gasp and her bucking was now accompanied by trembling in her legs and waist. Martin did his best to contort and twist his tongue around inside her, but her own gyrations quickly pushed his tongue back out.

He set her back down and moved his mouth back to her clit. There he circled it twice with his tongue and she thrashed in his hands, letting him know she was close. He did everything and every trick he knew and tried others he made up on the spot before finally sucking her clit between his lips and flicking the end of it with his tongue. Both of Charlotte's hands grasped his head and forced his face strongly against her sex, then she came with what sounded like a muffled grunt. He could feel every spasm of her orgasm as he rode out her pleasure. When it seemed like she was finishing, Martin lifted her and again forced his tongue inside her.

"Oh fuck," he heard her groan before her orgasm peaked a second time and his tongue was forced out of her by her clenching. At last he came out from under her skirt and took in the euphoric look on her face. He covered her with the dress again as her eyes opened and when he moved to go back beside her she stopped him.

"I hope you don't think we're done sir Martin. It seems you have awakened my own appetite and your lady would like her own dessert," she said with hot, seductive glint in her eyes. She followed this up by pulling the entire front of her dress back up to her waist and exposing herself to Martin. He quickly undid the ties of this pants and underwear and pushed them to his knees as he edged forward to meet her. She took hold of him and smiled as she gave him a few appreciative strokes.

"Your pursuit has grown most fervent indeed sir Martin," she said before kissing him hotly. When she finally broke the kiss, she guided him steadily toward her until he finally found himself slipping inside of her tightness. He sank into her slowly inch by inch watching her face the entire time.

"Damn your slowness sir," she said partway through and tried to thrust up at him, but her position was awkward against the tree and she could not complete the maneuver. Martin continued watching and pressing into her until he finally bottomed out and they both sighed contentedly.

"Beautiful," Martin said as he looked into her eyes.

"Flattery sir, after you already have me?"

"Honesty m'lady," he replied quickly, "after *you* already have *me*." She kissed him again at that and he reveled in the sheer passion of it. He could tell they were both very aroused and that neither of them was likely to last long. She was already making small bucking motions with her hips to encourage him on his way.

He started with long, slow strokes that seemed to drive them both crazy. He tried very hard to increase his pace slowly and draw out their pleasure. At first Charlotte responded only with growls and groans of frustration, and the she begged him to go faster, pleading until the pace began to approach what she wanted.

"Yes... oh yes," she gasped as she began to thrust back at him desperately. Before long they were slamming into each other and their breathing had turning into gasping and panting. He felt her orgasm start before his own, and he only got one more fevered stroke in before Charlotte's legs locked him in place against her and her pussy contracted tightly around him. Her wantonness combined with her wordless cry of pleasure set off his own orgasm, and it was so intense he felt as if he might black out. He tumbled into her arms when his orgasm finally relented and he rested his head on her shoulder.

"That was amazing," he heard her whisper.

"You are amazing," replied Martin immediately as he leaned back.

Charlotte blushed and then picked up her undergarments and shoved them into one of the pockets of her dress. "No point in putting them back on, given how wet they are," she explained with a blush, "which is entirely your fault, I might add." When she stood, Martin helped her straighten her clothes and even began to clean the soiled areas of her dress, which amused Charlotte to no end. "I'm not that concerned with how my dress looks, nor do I care what anyone thinks because of it."

"Be that as it may, I'll not have my lady's honor viewed questionably in public," Martin said seriously as he continued cleaning.

They returned to the faire grounds and disposed of the remains of their lunch. Soon they were again walking along arm in arm, both with overly contented smiles on their faces. Martin procured another bottle of water a bit later and they quickly drank all of it. As they neared the end of what Martin considered a complete circuit of the faire, Charlotte pulled him toward another of the stages to watch another comedy act. The seats were already full, so they stood at the back. Martin stood behind Charlotte and wrapped his arms around her waist. He couldn't focus on the show and ended up staring at the back of her head. Eventually she leaned back and turned her head so she could whisper to him.

"I can feel you staring at me," she said, "what feverish imaginations is your brain up to now?"

He tilted his head down so he could whisper directly into her ear. "I am imagining your nakedness underneath this dress and our combined cum running down the inside of your legs as you stand here watching the show."

"Trust me," she whispered in response, "it feels even naughtier and sexier than you're imagining. However, the small bit that has made it to my feet has completely undone your work at washing them earlier."