The story so far;
Martin rescued Anne from a torrential summer downpour. She was soaked, even her panties were wet, she’d told him. He offered her a clean towel and the use of his clean rugby shirt. She climbed into the back of his Transit van and stripped, naked. She seduced him, took his, long past its sell-by-date, virginity and over the next two weeks taught him to fuck and please a girl. She then introduced him to her Mother, also named Anne. He called her Anne-too and was happy to meet the sexual appetite of both beautiful women. Shortly after this his Aunt then Mother seduced him. They, in turn, sent him to his cousin Sally, who was waiting naked in the bath for his arrival. They had strict instructions to report to the farm, where the two Anne’s lived, by nine pm.
When Martin and Sally arrived Martin found that all of the women that had seduced him and he had subsequently fucked, regularly, were waiting for him. His Mother explained that although he had thought he had been screwing lots of different, unconnected, for the most part, women he had actually been having sex with his sisters, or more accurately, half-sisters. That everyone in the room, including himself, had the same Father AND that the man he’d thought was his Father AND that which he’d thought was his Uncle and Sally’s Father, were his half-brothers. His Father had had a harem of five beautiful women. He had made them each pregnant a few times and their subsequent daughters.
Martin was expected to assist his other Brothers, the actuality of half-anythings being totally ignored within the family, in servicing the females in the family and, if he was ‘up to it’ take over as the family cock and produce the next generation. In order to prove himself ‘up to it’ Martin was required to satisfy the five women of his Father’s harem and produce a child with one of the younger family females.
The previous chapter told of the Breakfast Orgy. This one starts a few days later.
This is part 14 of an ongoing story. If you have not read the preceding chapters then this might not make a great deal of sense on its own.
### ### ###
“Anne will be round tonight,” Mum said right out of the blue, “Early bed and up early in the morning. Carol wants to see you,” she chuckled dirtily, “wants you there at 9 sharp. I’ll drop you off and pick you up later. OK?”
“Nine o’clock? That’s the middle of the night!” I laughed.
“She’s an early bird,” Mum responded with a laugh, “take your camera, you might find it fun.”
Anne and me went up to bed at 9pm and she woke me at 6am. She’d missed me, apparently.
### ### ###
“The door’s on the latch, she’ll still be exercising. Just go in and close it properly behind you. The gym’s in the conservatory. See you later.”
It was only about ten feet to the door Mum having driven me up the driveway, ‘to save my little legs’ she laughed.
Carol is Anne-too’s Mum, Anne’s Nan. She lived in the Crescent, next to Angela. As you’d expect it was a big house standing in it’s own grounds. A sweeping driveway allowed vehicles to drive in one entrance and out the other without turning around. A pond with a naked, buxom nymphet formed the water feature. Her hands cupped her large breasts and water squirted from each nipple. I’d not seen it before. I took a photo and Mum laughed and waved as I pushed the front door open cautiously.
No alarms, no beefy bodyguard leapt out much to my relief. Closing the door I dropped the catch and wiped my feet then slipped my shoes off. She had a near white carpet!
I’d stepped into a large, high vestibule. Stairs started just to my right, went up a little way then turned left. They turned left again near the top leaving the last step to lead onto the minstrels gallery on the left and a corridor on the right. Like I said it is a large house.
On the ground floor there was a door left and right leading to two of the four front rooms. I walked down the wide corridor ahead and through the door at the end and into a very large room that had a kitchen at the far end and a sort of snug stroke mini dining area. A strange whirrrrring noise came through the open French windows on the opposite wall. I headed in that direction.
Carol was on a bicycle. The bicycle was on rollers and Carol was peddling like crazy. The rollers were proper cycle training rollers. Two rollers at the back for the back wheel of the bike and one at the front. The rear wheel sat between the rear rollers and a connecting drive chain drove the front roller thereby enabling the cyclist to balance. Did you follow that? The bike wasn’t fixed to the rollers in any way so the cyclist was totally dependent on speed to keep him or her upright. To the front left was a large dial probably indicating speed, there was a large needle marker and marks on the diameter of the disc but no numbers. On the other side was clearly a timing device.
The bike was a proper racing bike but had a fixed wheel, zeytinburnu escort what we’d now call a ‘fixi’. Move the pedals and the wheel moves. Stop moving the pedals and the wheel stops. There was no free-wheel option. She looked to be pushing a good few inches, impressive!
Carol was wearing the full cycling kit. Tight fabric long shorts with what I knew, from my own experience, was a chamois pad protecting her delicate parts. Traditionally there wouldn’t be any panties, bespoke or otherwise, as they tended to chaff parts that much preferred a more gentle touch. Up top was an equally snug fitting short sleeved top. She was wearing an old style track helmet and cycling gloves.
“Morning Martin, you’re early. Be another ten minutes yet. Mind waiting?”
It wasn’t really a question.
“Not at all, mind if I take a few photos?” I replied tentatively.
“None whatsoever, just don’t ask me to pose,” she laughed without any suggestion of breathlessness at all.
That’s fit for a woman of her age. I’m too much of a gentleman to even hint at what her age might be .
The first shot had to be a rear view! I sat on the floor behind her and framed the shot, her bum, on the third, obviously. She was rock steady on the rollers, barely a movement except her legs, going nineteen to the dozen. Click, click, click. Moved back a bit, bum on the third but the two dials in view, click, click. I moved to the side, Carol accelerated, the needle moved up about ten minutes to the noon position. Her head stayed stationary. Her shoulders didn’t move, just her legs, they went faster. Her boobs on the top third, bum on the lower, near enough. Click, click. Moved to the front quarter. The zip on her top only done up to the bottom of her tits, nice full roundness fully on show. Top third, click, click. In closer, same framing, click, click. I stayed as I was, enjoying the view.
Her speed reduced and reduced and reduced over about ten minutes. Once she was down to a walking pace she sat up, one hand on the handle bars for a few moments then none. That took both skill and experience.
“Nearly there, Martin, just a few more minutes warming down,” she said as she unzipped her top.
Click, click, click.
“Your Mum said you seemed to have an instinct for the shot,” she laughed, maybe we can build on that sometime?” she mused aloud.
Her top opened wide without the zip to hold it together. She clearly wasn’t concerned either about her exposure or my taking photos. Click, click, click. She looked hot! Very hot. Her body glowed. I should point out that horses sweat, gentlemen perspire and ladies glow. Carol positively glowed and looked utterly stunning for it.
She stopped peddling, the bike stopped and she steadied herself on the little platform on the other side of the rig. I’d not noticed that. Just a simple wooden step. Lifting her bike effortlessly she hung it on the wall, picked up the step in one hand and the rollers in the other and parked them under the bike.
“There, exercise done for the day. Fit for anything now,” she chuckled, “Need a shower, follow.”
I followed her beautifully designed bum as it led me back into the house and up the stairs, click, click. I followed her across a large, practical bedroom and into a stylish bathroom. She turned to face me and started to peel off her tight top. Click, click.
“You all clean and scrubbed, Martin?”
This as she started to roll down her tight long shorts. Click, click, pause, click. She turned to face away from me and eased the shorts off her toes one foot at a time. Click, click. Picking up the discarded top and holding her shorts she turned back to face me. Click, click, click. She smiled and struck a pose. Click, click, click.
“I am,” I confirmed with a big, thank you, smile, “but I’m not restricted to just one shower a day, if you’d like a hand?” I offered hopefully.
“That’s a fiver I owe your Mum!” she laughed, “I told your Mum that you wouldn’t have the nerve to offer to join me in the shower. She told me not to bet on it. I did and lost. I’ll hold your camera while you get undressed.”
I stripped off, no problem and Carol raised the camera to her eye and adjusted her position. I posed. Click, click, click.
“I’ll put the camera on the bed, we don’t want those photos spoiled, do we?” she laughed, “if they come out I’ll want some, as big as they’ll go,” she added with a dirty grin, “good job you didn’t pursue cycling as a hobby, totally the wrong shape, like your Dad, brick shit ‘ouse but two storey. Now let’s get me cleaned up, hair and all.”
I laughed delightedly and glanced down at her completely smooth pussy.
“The hair on my head, you twit, there’s not even enough down there to warrant letting you loose with a razor.”
I loved Carol instantly. OK, she was beautiful but that’s taken as read. She was one of Dad’s harem and therefore beautiful by default. Only about five four, maybe five? She had delicious aksaray escort boobs, couldn’t think of them as tits, they were boobs, firm yet soft, way more than a couple of large handfuls each. Despite her boobs she was very slender with a very nice, slim waist and great legs, good muscle structure, not bulky more sinuous, endurance muscles. The standard, soft blue eyes and dusty blonde hair. They say that gentlemen prefer blondes and Dad was very clearly a gentleman.
Carol was full of fun. She seemed to bubble with excitement all the time. I felt totally at ease instantly. She cracked silly jokes and even laughed at mine. Something my Mum seldom did. There was something about her, couldn’t put my finger on it then and it’s still difficult some forty years on. I was to discover, over the years, that she had a razor sharp mind, never missed a trick. She was undoubtedly the boss and deservedly so.
“Hair first and I like it vigorous. Use your fingers. Get in really deep.”
With her hair vigorously fingered I rubbed soap on my hands and held them up enticingly.
“Where would you like me to start,” I asked pointedly.
“Your choice.” she smiled contentedly.
I started at her shoulders…
“You ride your bike a lot?” I enquired conversationally as I soaped her down.
“Bin riding since I was able to ride without my Dad holding me up. Met your Dad when I was out on my bike.”
“Bob rode a bike?” I asked in astonishment, really?”
“Don’t be silly, if Bob had a bike it would have been fitted with a bloody great big motor!” she laughed, “no, he picked me up out of a ditch.”
### ### ###
“One day, I was out riding, minding my own business on the back country roads. I’d passed though Didling and was heading towards Cocking, a bit north of Chi. A quiet country road when this bloody lorry came from behind like the devil after a yearling. He did leave me plenty of room but the bow wave of wind he created made me wobble and the next thing I knew I was in the ditch! Arms and legs all over the place and my bike laying across my legs.
I heard a screech of brakes as this car pulled up. Opened my eyes and there’s a little white sports car parked above me. A chap was just climbing out. He stood at the side of the road looking down at me.
“Don’t move!” he told me, “anything hurt? Anything broken?”
I went to move my arm so I could shade my eyes and see who was talking to me.
“I said don’t move!” he scolded, “I’ll move.”
He adjusted his position so my face was in the shadow. He was scrumptious, tall as a tree, well his head was higher than the tree tops from where I was laying and as wide as a house. He looked naughty, like a lovable pirate. All he was missing was a parrot on his shoulder and a big weapon in his pants. He just looked down at me. I didn’t move, not a muscle then I realised my skirt was way up my legs and my legs were wide apart. I made no move to move or cover myself. I just got wet. I was helpless and he was mentally striping me. It seemed deliciously like ages but I’m sure it was really only seconds.
“I asked if anything hurt?” he repeated.
“Sorry,” I replied, “I was gathering my thoughts,” I lied, enjoying his inspection. “my ego’s bruised and there’s a pain high on my thigh, where the bike pedal is.”
“Can’t do anything about your ego just yet. Maybe I can massage it once we’ve sorted you out? If there’s nothing else I’ll get the bike out of the way. Don’t move a muscle. I’ll check you over properly after I’ve shifted the bike, OK?”
I told him it was and rested my head back down on the side of the ditch. I kept my eyes cracked open so I could enjoy him looking at me. I felt the weight of my bike go as he lifted it clear.
“Front wheel’s buckled, I’m afraid. You won’t be riding that anywhere today. Now let’s look at the damage to your leg. Can I move your skirt up a little?”
“Yes, please.” I whispered in a weak voice. My head was saying ‘take it off if you like’.
Up close he was really dishy. He could have me any day, or night for that matter.
I felt him lay the hem of my skirt across the top of my thighs, quite a bit higher than where the slight pain was.
“Is that enough? It’s not obstructing your view, is it?” I asked innocently.
He looked me straight in the eyes and smiled a devilish smile.
“Maybe a little bit more wouldn’t hurt,” he agreed and lifted my skirt so that it was laying across my tummy, “there might be other damage, better to be sure.” he ended.
I had to agree.
“You’ve got quite a bad scratch here,” he said placing his finger very gently high on my inner thigh and sending an involuntary shiver of excitement up my spine. There’s a little blood but not enough to leave a scar. Pity really, you could have fun telling your boyfriends how you got it when they discovered it. There’s a bruise developing just here,” he moved his fingers up, right to the edge ataköy escort of my panties and slowly stroked.
I gasped and gushed instantly. I knew my panties were wet and I knew he knew.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to hurt,” he apologised.
“It didn’t hurt at all,” I told him breathlessly.
“I’ve got something in my first aid box for the scratch and some Arnica for the bruise. Do you feel bruised anywhere else?”
“Could be the pedal bruised me where we can’t see it?” I suggested hopefully.
That made him smile.
“Let me fix the scratch first. Probably beside the road isn’t the best place to see if you have any other bruises. I’m not local, d’you know anywhere we could have a closer look?”
He went off to get his medical bits while I thought rapidly.
“Any ideas?” he bent close to my thigh, ‘to inspect the damage’, he said.
“Up the road about a mile. Little track goes off into the trees. About fifty yards there’s a clearing with a lovely view over the Downs. Might that be suitable?”
“Sounds perfect! Let me see if I can get your bike propped up in the boot then I’ll help you up. Sure there’s no more aches and pains?”
“No I’m fine,” I confirmed swinging my leg slightly further apart, “quite comfy, actually.” I grinned back at him.
He had to take the wheels off but after about five minutes he came over to collect me.
“Would you like me to help you up or do you think it might be better if I carried you?” he asked kindly.
“It might be better if you carried me,” I replied, “would you mind?”
He picked me like I was a feather. His arms were sooo strong. He put me gently into the front seat and straightened up. There was a delicious bulge in his trousers. He was a pirate, big weapon an’ all I realised. I stroked my hand down it, blatantly caressing it’s length.
“Did I do that? All on my own?” I asked grinning cheekily up at him.
“Well, you and your wet panties. I like wet panties, especially if I made them wet.”
“And I like stiff cocks, especially if I made them stiff!” I informed him.
I undid his belt and worked my way down the buttons of his fly. He made no attempt to stop me. With his trousers around his thighs I stared at the swelling in his pants, reached up for the elastic and worked it over his cock head! Shit! It was big! I looked up at him.
“I’ll never get that in my mouth!” I told him with certainty, “but I’m gonna give it a damn good try!” I admitted, bent my neck and opened my mouth to his straining knob head.
I sucked the purple head in and made an inch or so of the fat shaft. That’s all I could do. I came back up and tried again. I maybe made a little bit more and was trying for a bit extra when I heard a vehicle approaching. I had to be quick. My hands were pulling his trousers up while my mouth was still disengaging from his big, fat cock when a van came around the corner about two hundred yards away.
Bob nonchalantly sorted himself out and walked round to the drivers side. Just as he was climbing in the van went by with a loud blast of his car horn. Bob waved cheerfully. I grinned happily. We drove down the road, me watching every little landmark to try and give Bob a bit of warning before the turn off.
“Just there, by the silver birch, on the right.”
Bob slowed and turned gingerly onto the dirt track. It wasn’t much wider than his little car.
“Shall I get out and run ahead, make sure there’s nobody there before you drive down the track?” I offered.
“Then I wouldn’t be able to enjoy your bare legs and sexy little panties,” he complained.
I unbuttoned my skirt, lifted my bum and slipped my skirt down and off, put it on the little rear seats and climbed out.
“That better?” I asked standing right in front of the car and striking a pose.
“I’ll follow you! Walk slowly. If there’s anybody there they’ll enjoy a lovely surprise.”
I walked slowly and wriggled my hips as I led him down the path to the nice little clearing where I’d enjoyed sunbathing naked many times. Only being discovered a couple or three times, all of which were most enjoyable. The clearing was empty. I walked over to the car and asked if he had a picnic rug. He passed it out from the back seat. I swapped the rug for my top and bra and walked towards my favourite sunbathing place, wriggling my bum invitingly. I wanted his cock. He wasn’t leaving until I had enjoyed it!
I was sitting in the middle of the picnic rug when he walked up, still clutching his unbuttoned trousers. I didn’t hesitate for an instant. Reaching up I pulled his trousers down then went back for his pants. His cock was rampant, glistening with pre-cum. Licking up the entire length I opened my mouth and swallowed as much as I could, stroking the rest, trying to force it into my mouth. It just seemed to keep growing, fatter.
“You gonna fuck me first or shall I blow you first?”
“Get your panties off! I want to see your wet pussy before we fuck. Then I’ll eat you and you can suck me as long as you like before I fuck you again. Deal?”
“Deal!” I told him and laid back and removed my panties.
I opened my legs wide so he could have a good look.
“Oh I do enjoy a nicely trimmed pussy!” he said contentedly, “That’s gonna get eaten. Sit on my face!”