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By *ornLord OP Man
over a year ago
Wiltshire and London |
"Bugger, bugger, fuck it!"
A good day's cycling had turned sour, first with a sudden, heavy and cold shower on the downs several miles from home and then, thanks to a pothole lurking at the bottom of a rain puddle, a double flat. Changing both inner tubes was never much fun, and promised to be even less this time with cold fingers...
"Naughty, naughty, Mum would give you such a telling off for bad language": a young woman's voice - girlish, slightly posh but leavened by a local lilt - accompanied by an equine snort from close by mocked my misfortune. "And Tammy's not too impressed either. Mum would probably call it jolly bad luck", she laughed.
The girl led the horse into view from behind the hedge where it seemed she had seen me come to grief as both tyres deflated instantly on hitting the pothole.
"Maybe I should get one of those", I retorted, "although no doubt the maintenance bill's higher in the long run. I must say, the attire's rather more stylish than my kit, though".
She was wearing standard horseriding outfit of hard hat, jacket and jodhpurs.
"Oh, attire is it? Into posh language are we?", she laughed.
"Oh alright then, your kit's better than mine, how's that?"
"Fucking more like it", she answered. I suspect my reaction was exactly what she expected. "Don't stand there gawping at my, erm, earthy language, I'm a country girl you know. Bring that thing up to the house. It's pretty obvious that it's not going anywhere like that, and if you're going to repair it you might as well do so in the warm".
Far be it from me to argue with a young lady who seems to know her own mind... I did as she had instructed, wheeling the stricken machine behind her first to the stables where she installed the horse - Tammy evidently - and then across the yard to the kitchen of the extensive house, which I estimated would have several other rooms on the ground floor as well as the spacious extension, which turned out to accommodate the kitchen as well as a large utility room and a boot room.
"I'm Ellie, by the way", she said, removing her hard hat to reveal shortish red hair, devastating in combination with her green eyes and lightly freckled skin. "Normally I'd give you a lift to wherever you need, but Mum has got the tank - that's the Range Rover - and I doubt your bike would fit in my little car. First things first, though: I'll make tea and we'll need to get you dried off."
She put the kettle on the stove and disappeared up a flight of stairs adjoining the kitchen, reappearing moments later with a man's towelling robe.
"Here you go, put that on. Dad won't mind, it's ages since he wore it anyway. I'll put your stuff on the radiator to dry. You can have a hot shower if you like."
I hesitated, looking round for a space to change in.
"It's ok, you can strip off here. I know you don't wear pants under that stuff but I find it's always best to see a cock first when it's cold, as it'll never be any smaller. You're not shy, are you?"
She had already unzipped her jacket and was pulling off her sweater, though still with a close-fitting top underneath.
"I always strip off here like this after a ride. It's easy just to hang my stuff up in the boot room or throw it in the washing machine. You're gawping again, by the way."
"Oops, sorry... I might be in trouble though... I mean if your folks come in with me like this."
"Don't worry, it's just Mum nowadays, and she's very open-minded. I can bring home who I like."
I mused about how open-minded Ellie's mum would be to find a middle-aged man naked in her kitchen with her daughter, who by now was down to her bra and panties and showing no signs of shyness about it. And my cock was showing signs of revival thanks in part to the warmth of the kitchen stove.
"Anybody I like", she repeated, "And so can Mum. We have only two rules. Firstly, anyone we do bring home, there's no fucking downstairs. I was with a boy once on the sofa, with not a lot on, when Mum and Dad walked in... only a few seconds ahead of the grandparents, so no disaster, but the rule stands to this day."
I did wonder how being caught by the parents in flagrante delicto wasn't a disaster, but different strokes...
"So, do you often bring people home to fuck?", I asked, dry-mouthed and now clad with the gown to try to hide my burgeoning erection - not that Ellie would have been offended by it, I reckoned.
"Oh, quite often, both of us", she answered. "Though I've never caught Mum shagging on the sofa", she added with a chuckle. "Anyway, are you going to help me out of these wet things?"
She was by now standing with her curvy tits close to my chest, and her hand fell between my legs, stroking my balls. I reciprocated, running my fingers over the moist space between her thighs, making her sigh and open her lips to let out a gasp... I reached behind her back and unclipped her bra, cupping her freed nipples in my free hand.
"No fucking downstairs", she reminded me. "Come with me".
It did occur to me that I hadn't yet heard what the second rule was, but once again I wasn't going to argue when this girl, probably not half my age, seemed intent on fucking... |
,
Xx
a second rule, wheres mummy?
