“Bloye, yes its an old Devonshire name”. The lady on his door step explained.
The voice most certainly didn’t carry a Devonshire accent in fact it betrayed that the owner originated in the antipodes.
“But first let me introduce my family, husband Mark, and my daughters Sharon and Genevieve, I am, believe it or not called Sheila. Yes I have heard all the jokes about 'Ozzy Sheilas'.”
Normally Chris would have sent them on their way, turning up as they had unannounced but the two girls were very attractive and he feared he was having carnal thoughts about two females that looked like under age jail bait but decided to find out a bit more about the family.
“Sure, step inside, perhaps you would like to take tea with me”, he suggested.
The girls giggled to each other at his quaint English words and accent.
Seated in Chris's living room the family remarked how cosy the house was as compared to the large open plan spaces of their home in Australia. Sheila described how they had planned this trip to, as she put it, “the old country, to research further their ancestors some of whom had origins in the county of Devonshire, England many years ago. She described how they had found in their long and difficult searching, this farmhouse in which some of their ancestors had lived. They hoped that Chris would allow them to look around the building and perhaps take photographs for their own archives.
While he was happy to accede to the family's request he was determined to keep them talking for a while while he absorbed the attributes of the two young ladies. Thus he questioned them as to how they at first got interested in genealogy, remarking that perhaps the girls were only “coming along for the ride”. They laughed at the accusation.
It was Sheila that came to their defence. “It was Genevieve that started it all at school and did a project as long ago as six years ago when she was fifteen. She was so enthusiastic about it that eventually we all got involved even Sharon, although she didn’t see the point until she was eighteen.”
Chris made a mental note that each of the girls were pleasingly older than he had supposed. The younger had her mother's distinctive features, high cheek bones small nose, her father's dark eyes and small frame. She was slim unlike her mother who was bigger boned and carried a little middle age weight. Genevieve was taller, bigger boned like her mother but also slim, although he guessed that she had to work at it more than her sister. Her father's features had been inherited, large dark eyes and full lips but her mother's small nose. There was an air of mischief about them and Chris wondered if this was a trait of Australian women or at least the young women.
Fashion seemed to be high on the order for the females of the family, mother wore clothes slightly too young for both her size and age which he guessed was mid-forties. The girls wore what he guessed was the sharp edge of young fashion. The taller girl wore black leggings to just above the knee, a green mini kilt which left a satisfying amount of tanned thigh in view, and a matching shirt, through which Chris could swear he discerned the dark patch of an areola, all surmounted by a shrug.
Under a similar shrug Sharon wore a floral vest top together with a short mocha skirt that, just like her sister, showed off her tanned thighs to advantage. Both girls wore soft leather ankle boots. Neither young woman seemed too bothered about modesty and Chris had problems tearing his eyes away from flashes of underwear as they moved in their seats. Mother was none too modest either, and he had course to look at her husband for reaction but there was none. In any case Chris was only interested in the girls. To Chris's fifty-one year old brain these young women were seriously under dressed, not that he was about to complain.
During the tour of the large house Chris found Sheila too often engineering the juxtaposition of they bodies. In doorways far too narrow to permit then to pass she would be there pressing her body to his. On the stair, although he intended to go ahead of her, she dashed in front of him then managed to 'accidentally' flash her knickers at him; what passed as knickers that is; far too little fabric struggled to cover her ample rear. What he wanted of course was to get behind the girls but mother seemed to be able to thwart his efforts at every attempt.
The father seemed to be a brow-beaten male in a predominantly female household and said very little the entire time although Chris was sure that as he walked into one room Mark was freely groping his wife's thinly covered and generous breasts.
The family took many photographs of the rooms and exterior, some included Chris, for scale and atmosphere, they said.
Sheila asked if would be possible if one or other of the girls could come and help for a few hours at the farm as they were staying in the area for a while while she and Mark did some research. She explained that although Sharon had caught the genealogy bug she didn’t much like the thought of spending hours searching archives and church records. Besides which she would be grateful to earn a little extra money.
Chris didn’t consider for long as it would give him an opportunity to see more of the girls, and Bill Brewer, his only farm hand some help. Bill was getting on in age and would appreciate any help.
-oOo-
It was a warm night when Chris went to his bed and as usual he checked his bed for any wildlife that may be lurking there. A thatched house such as his was always home to spiders etc., so a check of the bed was routine. After a cursory check he threw the pillow down again only to pick it back up quickly as his brain registered that there was something under it that ought not to be there. He was astounded to find a wispy piece of green lace. He held up the green garment for closer inspection, it seemed to consist of a narrow band of lace from which hung an even tinier piece but of double thickness.
Chris hung the panties over the end of the four-poster bed staring at them for quite a while as his mind struggled to work out when they had been secreted in his bed and why? His sleep was filled with bizarre dreams of him and three females in erotic scenarios. Disturbingly the more mature woman seemed to play the lead role.
The sun was up when he opened his eyes and at first he thought he had over slept as there came an annoying knocking at one of the doors to the house. He quietly open the bedroom window and looked down to the front door. In the porch stood a female he didn’t recognise, he waited for her to move. When she did he saw that it was Sharon. He pulled a robe over his naked body.
“Mum said to come and see you for some work?” Sharon's voice rose and fell in her Australian way of speaking. She eyed him suspiciously dressed as he was in a robe.
Chris offered her breakfast but she replied that she didn’t do breakfast, but a drink would be OK. To his question of “tea or coffee”, Sharon looked at him as if he was of another planet.
“’Strewth, don’t ya have cola, mate?”, her voice sounded incredulous.
He said he didn’t, it was bad for your teeth, to which the girl opened her mouth and displayed a complete set of perfect teeth. Chris mentally chastised himself for the vision that came into his mind of that mouth enveloping his penis. In this frame of mind he decided that it wouldn’t be prudent to ask Sharon if the green panties were hers.
“Do you have coveralls?”, Chris asked the girl.
She gave him an astonished look, “What the heck for, I don’t mind getting a bit mucky, I have chooks1 at home.”
He looked at her tight white tie-top and short skirt, “I am thinking of protecting others, not you Sharon. Bill, my farm hand is old, he wouldn’t survive if you bent over.”
Sharon looked at him and shrugged, holding out her hands. Chris recognised it as a teenager's way of saying 'and? So what?'
He sent her off with instructions of where to find coveralls while he made himself breakfast.
Her return startled him, he felt her presence rather than heard her arrive. In the shadows she held up something, it didn’t look like a coverall. Suddenly his head swam in panic as he realised what she had dangling from between finger and thumb.
“OK where is she? Where is Genevieve? I’ll kill her, we agreed I get first chance here.” Her eyes were blazing with anger.
Chris's words didn’t make an awful lot of sense to him let alone the girl as he tried to tell her that her sister wasn’t at the house.
Sharon raised her voice, “So if she aint here how come her grundies2 were hanging on the rail to ya bed?” She held up the incriminating green lacy panties. “If that dirty little bogan3 has got here first...”
Chris's hand held up in front of her face stopped the flow of words. By logical examination of most recent events he persuaded Sharon that as she had left Genevieve languishing in bed when she left to come to the farm, there was no way her sister could have arrived ahead of her, let alone have shed her panties for... He left the 'for' to Sharon's imagination. She was not convinced at his explanation as to how the underwear came to be in his possession but had to agree that her sister couldn’t be there.
Uncovering the bottom rail to the bed his eyes discovered what he had not noticed before. A white tie-top, a white lace bra and a blue skirt, in fact, together with the thong, all the clothes that Sharon had been wearing. The young Australian girl was 'nuddy4' under the coverall that he had provided.
Chris had put Sharon under the supervision of Bill his farm hand and the wily old fox had put her to cleaning the cattle stalls, a job which apparently she undertook without question. Indeed when Chris went to see how she was doing the girl was hard at work and didn’t notice his presence. He whispered to Bill and asked how she was doing. Bill pointed to the girl, shaking his finger indicating to his boss that he should look closely at her. As she moved energetically in her work the voyeurs were able to see that she had unzipped the top of the coverall and as she bent forward one or other of her ripe young breasts came into view. Bill made lewd gestures despite his advanced years. Chris grinned, he had no doubt that the old fox would have attempted to 'root5' the girl if the chance ever presented itself.
Calling to the girl Chris asked if she wanted to stay for lunch or go back to the hotel. “You can eat with Bill and me if you want.” He gave Bill a look that said 'don’t you dare accept, I want this lass to myself'.
“Can't go back to the hotel looking like a bogan, I’ll eat with you two galahs6.”
Chris looked at Bill and waited for the response to his cue. Bill looked wistfully at the girl and told her that his missus would have prepared a lunch so he had to go. Chris nodded with satisfaction.
Sharon grinned, “Bummer7, still, Bill's had a stiffy-boner8 all morning, it'll give it time to settle down.” She laughed loudly.
The 'Ploughman's' lunch that Chris had prepared did go down too well with Sharon. The first thing she rejected were the 'roo-balls'. Although they were in fact pickled onions she insisted that no way would she eat kangaroo bollocks. She tore off a piece of Chris's home made bread and happily started to eat it, but she just push around the plate the various types of cheese. She was fooled by the relish, thinking it was a type of Vegemite of her native Australia. Scooping up a quantity on a lettuce leaf she filled her mouth. As soon as the spice and heat of the relish hit her taste buds the mouthful was almost spat out. Instead most of it was deposited in a paper napkin but a little dribbled down on to the coverall and her chest.
“Get this shit off me... quick!” yelled Sharon.
Chris was only to happy to help her. He took his napkin and wiped the coverall feeling the softness of her breast underneath.
“Me, me! Wipe me not the bloody coverall” she screamed. She grabbed his arm and moved it so that the napkin was on her chest.
Some how Chris lost his grip on the paper and found his palm sweeping over the girl's chest and breasts, she didn’t flinch so he continued. Continued down her belly, as the zipper opened the garment. He looked at her face, the consternation of a second ago was replaced by a grin.
“So, ya perv, now ya know I aint got a lot on underneath this coverall, and that brown crap didn’t drop down that far.” Sharon made no move to stop the progress of his hand as it explored her body heading for her nether regions. The zipper came to a frustrating stop preventing his hand from getting below her navel. In two swift moves the girl levered the garment off her shoulders and with nothing to stop it the baggy coverall slithered quickly down her body ending up in a heap at her ankles. She kicked the clothing away from her feet.
Chris's reflex step backwards prompted Sharon to enquire if she was not to his liking.
“Ah, its just that I haven’t seen an eighteen year old naked body like that in... well, ever actually. And its... you’re, fantastic.”
Hands on naked hips she corrected him, “nineteen, I am nineteen and if you’re wondering my sister is twenty-one. So? You started to clean me, want to finish?”
Chris summoned all his courage, held out his hand for hers and when she took it led her to the bathroom. He ran the shower warm then pushed her under the water. He stripped off his shirt and jeans then joined the girl.
She stared at his crotch, “ so you go commando all the time, don’t ya have grundies, boxer shorts?”
“For special occasions, but nobody has died or is about to wed, and as far as I know its not Christmas.” he grinned.
The girl took his flaccid dick in her hand, “do old guys ever crack a fat? Did old Bill get a stiffy-boner?” She ran a finger over the head then gently pulled back the foreskin.
Chris smiled, he was experienced and wasn’t about to let this girl raise him to full erection just yet, but he had to work at it. The young woman washed the organ with her fingers.
“Oh when something excites him the old-feller9 rises to the occasion, you may have to work hard though.”
Sharon took up the challenge, she dropped to her knees, looked up at him then took the head of his cock into her mouth little by little. She hummed a deep sound which reverberated along the length of his soft penis and penetrated right to his balls. He struggled to prevent an instant erection, holding it to a semi-hard state.
When she cupped his balls then began to massage them he knew he had lost the struggle and 'the old-feller' stood proud. The sensation of the female's lips gripping and her tongue lapping and her mouth sucking was terrific, and posed a different challenge for him; not to cum!
The warm water flowed over the pair and added to the the heat that their activity was generating. Chris reached down to sample the velvet firmness of the young breasts. He rolled a nipple between finger and thumb eliciting a muffled moan from Sharon. In her turn she dropped a hand to her nether region and sought out her 'comforter'.
By the time that Sharon was satisfied with the length, girth and harness of Chris's staff she was ready for real sex. Without waiting to dry off she left the shower, ran through to the bedroom and threw herself on his bed. Chris grabbed a towel trying to dry his body as he followed her to the bed.
There was no hesitation, she was ready so he climbed between her thighs. Although her juices flowed generously and her labia almost glowed red, he was impressed if not a little shocked at just how tight was this female around his cock. Her previous work with hand and mouth and now such tightness was going to be his downfall. He thought it might be better to stroke himself off this first time and hope to do better if she allowed a next time. He didn’t account for the girl insisting that she experienced an old guy cumming inside her.
“Ya drongo10”, she giggled, “I am protected, mum insisted after she found out that I was doing it with guys of my own age at home.”
Glossary: 1 – chooks; chickens. 2 – grundies; panties, undies. 3 – bogan; “trailer-trash”. 4 – nuddy; nude. 5 – root; fuck. 6 – galahs; fools. 7 – bummer; too bad, 8 – stiffy-boner; erection. 9 – old-feller; cock. 10 – drongo; nerd. 11 -
No comments:
Post a Comment