Anonymous: Dara

I paused for a moment trying to find the words that would put my refusal more tactfully. 'You deserve someone much better than I could ever be. I cannot see myself as a minister's wife and for that matter I have no intention of becoming anyone's wife. Marriage is not for me or ever will be. Please don't be hurt, dear Robert. I am honoured that you have asked me and if I had to get married I would rather be a wife to you than anyone.'

Without another word he kissed me on the forehead and departed for his sleeping quarters.

During our journey to Albany where we would have to part company no further reference was made to marriage and we resumed our friendship as before.

Disembarking at Albany, our first task was to take rooms at an hotel, for the next morning I would board an Erie Canal barge for Buffalo, three-hundred-and-sixty-four miles away, and he to set off for the green mountains of Vermont.

We would be going for hundreds of miles in opposite directions and would probably never see each other again. The thought of our parting made me feel very sad and I wished we could continue our journey together, but I knew no good would come of that.

Nevertheless, desiring to show my appreciation in some way for his kindness and protective friendship that had been constant from the first moment we met, I invited him to dine with me at the best eating place in Albany at my expense, adding that he must order only the very best dishes on the menu whatever the cost.

The dinner was a most excellent meal and we arrived back at the hotel after stumbling and falling about through dimly lit streets, both a little intoxicated from the wine we had drunk throughout the dinner. A gentle kiss on the lips and then he went to his room and I to mine.

I was slipping my nightdress over my shoulders when I thought I heard a light knock. Opening the door, I was surprised to see Robert standing there, bare-footed, dressed only in trousers and shirt, with tears rolling down his cheeks. Concerned at his distress, I brought him inside and shut the door.

He just stood there with bowed head. Going up to him I put my arms around his neck saying, 'There, there, Robert, don't take on so; we may meet again some day.'

He slowly put his arms around me and drew me in close. So close was I pressed up against him that I could feel the prominent bulge at his crotch. Experience of other men told me what that meant. The thought came to me that he had been without a woman for at least three months and if that was what he was in need of I would be only too happy to oblige. I would willingly have done a lot more to make him happy before we parted.

It took but a moment, crouched in a corner, to insert the sponge, slip off my nightdress and return to his arms, naked as the day I was born. He had his eyes closed and was breathing heavily as I unbuttoned his trousers and got him to step out of them.

When his trousers dropped his cock sprang up stiff and erect. I fondled it for a little while, then put it between my soft plump thighs. He groaned like a man being tortured beyond endurance. Pressing hard up against him, my tits flattened against his chest, I milked him by tugging at his cock with my thighs which had a firm grip on it. I could feel it sliding along the moist groove of my giny when I pressed hard on to him.

He suddenly gripped the cheeks of my bottom and pushed the head of his cock right through to my backside. It was pulsing strongly when I felt his arms crush me to him as his emotions climaxed. Then he swayed and his whole body seemed to crumple as he leaned heavily against me. I had to support him with my arms to stop him falling.

The tears were coming down his cheeks again and he was mumbling to himself. I could only catch some of the words:'… Oh, God, forgive me… Oh, Dara, I am deeply ashamed… I'm just a fornicating sinner like the rest of them… I'll never forgive myself.'

When I realized what he was saying I got annoyed. 'Don't be silly, Robert. You are not a fornicating sinner. You are a kind, decent man who has been without a woman for too long. We were not fornicating,' I said, 'you didn't even get it inside me. The truth is you haven't committed a sin. You love me and I did what I did because I'm very fond of you. Please don't take on so, it isn't anything to get into a bother about.'

Blinded by tears, he pushed me away from him and groped for his trousers. He needed my assistance to get into them and get through the doorway back to his own room.

Confused and unhappy that we should part this way, I slept uneasily throughout the night.

When I got downstairs in the morning Robert had gone, leaving a note in an envelope which read, 'Dara, please try to forgive me, Robert.'

I frowned and stamped my foot. How could he, I asked myself, deny his own natural feelings because of his religious beliefs and then take on so because they had got the better of him. I had been prepared to give him a whole night of love and kisses and send him on his way a happy and contented man. Instead it had all turned sour because of his damned religious beliefs.

Tearing his note into small pieces, I threw them into the street. I was doubly annoyed because, for the first time since John Bruce, I had wanted to give myself to a man freely, with affection, respect and a warm heart, and once again I had been pushed off.

The long days spent on the barge taking me through the Erie Canal to Buffalo were dull and boring, apart from the beautiful countryside which was like none that I had ever seen before. After boarding another boat I arrived at Cleveland, a town at the mouth of the Ohio River. My relatives had a farm about twenty miles south of Cleveland. A few enquiries in town led me to a carrier who was willing to take me to within a mile of Peel Farm.

They had named the farm after the town in the Isle of Man where they had emigrated from some eighteen years before. Since they had left the island a year or so before I was born, the only knowledge I had of them was gained from reading letters that they had written to other relatives. The Quirks were not close relations, Mrs. Quirk being my dead father's cousin, but being Manx, like themselves, I was sure that they would give me a warm welcome. As I had departed within a few days of making up my mind to emigrate, I had not written to inform them of my intentions as I knew I would arrive at the farm before a letter could reach them.

The farmhouse was like two log cabins adjoining each other to form a letter L, giving the impression that originally there had only been one log cabin and the second had been built at a later date when more house rooms had been required. There was a porch door on which I knocked repeatedly without getting any answer, so I wandered around to the back where there was a door held open by a small wood log. It was the door to the main room of the house. A spotlessly clean combined kitchen and living room.

A lovely appetizing smell of baking bread emanated from the room and the first thing I saw was half a dozen newly baked loaves on a very large wooden table. On the other side of the table a blonde haired woman, nearly six feet in height and stout with it, was kneading dough. She looked up for just a brief moment as I entered then stooped over her dough again. As I stood with my leather luggage bag, not knowing what I should do or say next, she asked without looking up from her work with the dough, And who might you be?'

'I'm Dara Tully from Baldwin Valley in the Isle of Man,' I answered.

This news was greeted with silence as she continued to knead the dough.

'I suppose you are Mrs. Quirk, my father's cousin.'

She quickly filled six baking tins with the dough and put them in the oven, then turned her full attention on me. 'So you are Sam Tully's daughter. How is he keeping these days?' she asked.