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Hetero- to homo- to bi- to pansexual: evolution at work?
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Night brought restlessness to Cassia. The day's events weighed heavily on her mind and in the midst of her sleep, she'd awaken with her fingers shoved deeply into her pussy. A few times, she awoke just before she came and whimpered her way into an orgasm, gasping for breath. By the time the sun cast its friendly rays through her window, she was a sleepy, nervous wreck. She was happy that the morning cleansing water was cold; it helped to reduce the puffy bags from under her eyes and she skated through breakfast, grabbing a muffin and an apple and making the excuse that she and Jenny were going to watch the sunrise from the east pasture.
It took a long time for Cassia to convince Jenny that what she'd seen and heard was the truth. "I don't know when it's going to happen but my mother is going to fuck another man."
"I can't believe that!"
"I can." Cassia pulled her friend close, her hand drifting into her open bodice and awakening a fat nipple. "My father is a wonderful man."
Jenny sighed at the feelings that her friend's hands were evoking. "Yes ... and he has a wonderful daughter."
A morning of lovemaking gave way to afternoon and Cassia parted with her friend, eager to find out what was going on in the house. The housekeeper told her that her mother and father had gone into town but wouldn't elaborate on the reason for their visit. The chambermaids knew nothing, either. That only left two people that Cassia considered confidantes in the house. Cook, who knew every bit of information that flowed through the house and Withers, the blacksmith, an older but handsome man who kept the horses shod and repaired other things around the estate. She'd always had a crush on him and loved the way he treated her like an adult.
Cook was in the kitchen, supervising the killing and cleaning of chickens for dinner and seemed to be a bit frazzled. Cassia stole a carrot stick from a cold platter and pinched her nose at the smell of blood. "Yuck!"
"What are you doing in here?"
"Came to see what all the fuss was."
A light seemed to twinkle in Cook's eye for a quick second, then just as quickly disappeared. "Just plucking chickens. You've seen it done before."
"Yes, but not usually this close to dinner. Is someone special coming to dinner?"
Cook turned to her, a wry smile on her wrinkled face. "Why do you ask?"
"Just nosy is more like it." Cook turned her back toward the door and gave her a smack on the ass. "You get out of here, missy, and find something else to do."
Grabbing another carrot, Cassia grinned and muttered under her breath, "No, just someone else to ask."
Withers was in his usual place, hammering iron in the forge and Cassia paused to watch him. He was the same age as her mother but you would never have guessed it by the look of his body. His torso was trim and his muscles in his arms flexed and rolled with every lift of the hammer. Sweat coated his skin, making the tiny golden hairs rise and his blond-brown hair clung to the sides of his face. He lifted the horseshoe and pleased with his work, plunged it into a large bucket of water, standing back from the steam.
"Hello yourself." He tossed the finished shoe in the bin and carefully set the tongs down. "What are you up to?"
"Oh, nothing." Cassia sat on a crate, watching him move around the space and loving the feline-like way that he moved. "Just came to hang around with you."
"Now why would a pretty girl want to hang around with an old man like me?"
"You're not old, Withers, and you're quite handsome yourself."
He laughed and she was momentarily hypnotized by a flash of white teeth. "You've been telling me that since you were a little girl."
"Yes, and now I'm a big girl."
His dark eyes connected with hers and he looked away quickly, his cheeks flaming.