Dream Cottage Ch. 02

My first port of call was the post office, where I paid the lady for the stamps I'd walked out with on the Monday. She also apologised for the remarks she'd made, and I did my best to pass the whole thing off as if it hadn't taken place at all. The next visit was back to the butchers, and even though I wasn't dressed up as I had been last Monday, it didn't deter the butcher, Mr Williams, from being every bit as attentive as he'd been back then. Whilst Garry, who was busy butchering a side of pork, I thought was at one point, in danger of chopping off his own fingers; he was paying me so much attention. But I left there without incident, and off to the grocers.

As we only have one grocers shop, it meant seeing Mr Harper again, and that wasn't something I was looking forwards to. But as I needed to buy food, it had to be faced. So in I went. The shop was empty of customers, and even Mr Harper wasn't in sight. This isn't unusual, if there are no customers in the shop, he goes out the back to his private quarters, and keeps a lookout through a one-way mirror. There is also a bell on the door, so this also gives him a warning when anyone comes in.

So I picked up a wire basket, and began to make my way down the first aisle. I'd only been looking a minute, when I heard Mr Harper, "Are you alright? Is there anything I can help you find?"

I held up the list I'd written out, as I said, "No thank you. I've got my list, I'm sure I'll find everything myself."

Just as I was speaking, the door bell rang, and in came four men. Not you might think an unusual occurrence, but the manner they came in was. And as the bell had attracted my attention and I'd turned my head, what I saw was, almost like they'd been running; in fact racing each other. They came in following so close and moving so quickly; that as the first man saw me and stopped in his tracks, the others all just piled into the back of him, and then into each other. It was like a silent comedy film clip.

At first, I had a silent little chuckle to myself, but as they sorted themselves out and closed the door behind them, one of them reached up and slid the bolt across, locking the door.

Now this was unusual, and very worrying. I turned my head back and pretended to carry on shopping as if I hadn't noticed them.

Then I heard Mr Harper's voice, "Hey! What d'you think you're doing? Unbolt that door."

"Shut your face Stuart."

And then another of the men said, "You go out back and mind your own business."

"Don't you talk to me like that."

"Or what? Now you go out back or I'll use this on you."

What he was threatening Mr Harper with, I have no idea, not only dare I not look; but Mr Harper's position behind the counter, would have been out of site even if I'd tried. But the relevant thing was, that Mr Harper must have done as he was told. Because I didn't hear another word from him.

At this point, I just had to turn my head, as I needed to know if they were coming down the aisle towards me. When I looked, two of them were stood in the same aisle as me, about six feet into it. I decided I'd skip the groceries, and make my way to the bottom of the aisle, where I'd have a choice of three different aisles to make my way back out towards the counter. But in my mind, I didn't really hold out much hope of me getting out.

I'd hardly even started to make my way along, before from the far end of the aisle, appeared the two other men. So I was now boxed in, and although I'm sure I must have met all of these men at some time during these last three years of living up here, at this moment in time, I just couldn't place any one of them. They might just as well have been total strangers. I stood still, waiting for the inevitable, as from both ends of the aisle, the men were approaching. I don't suppose they were walking particularly slowly, but in my mind this whole thing went into a slow motion sequence. Both pairs had reached to within a distance of a couple of feet from either side of me, when I heard Mr Harper.

"Ok lads. Hold up there."

The two men who were approaching from the shop-entrance end, both swung around, as did my head. And standing at the end of the aisle, with a twelve-bore shotgun, was Mr Harper. It wasn't pointed at us, but rather, down at the floor of the aisle in front of the closest two men.

And it was one of them who replied, "Don't be silly Stuart. We know you won't use that. If you did, you'd like as not kill the bloody lot of us. Now just go back into your house and pretend we're not here."

"I can't do that Sam, I've already phoned Adam, in fact, that's his siren you can hear now."

And faintly, in the distance, could be heard the nar-nar noise made by those new fangled police sirens.

The man called Sam said, "You fucking twat. What the fuck have you called that prick for?"

"Come on lads, you can see your little games over. Let her get past you. Come on Mrs Theabold, they won't touch you now."

I slowly edged my way towards the first of the two men, and then with my back towards him, I was about to shuffle sideways past him. Well that was what I thought I'd do. As I've said before, these aisles are narrow, and my bottom brushed up against him, his arms came around me, and he pulled me up towards himself. It was only a momentary grope, as his fingers pushed down into the tops of my legs, and as I'd dressed with jeans, it was really something and nothing. But I was never the less glad when he let me move on.

As he'd taken hold, Mr Harper had called down to him, "Pack it in. Otherwise when Adam gets here, this'll be made into an official report."

But I guess the man had only intended just the quick grope, as he'd actually released me before Mr Harper's comment had time to even sink in. In fact, before he'd finished his little statement, I'd moved along to the next man, who, ignoring any threats, pulled me up to him in a similar manner. The difference being, this man had one hand just under my ribcage, and as he pulled me to himself, I guess this made me take a deep breath, drawing my tummy in. Whereupon, his other hand slipped down into the front of my jeans. Thankfully, as my shirt was over my knickers, and this was just a single opportunistic thrust, his hand went down into the front of my crotch, but on the outside of my very protective knickers.

Mr Harper almost blew a gasket, as he shouted out at Sam. But again, Sam's hand was on its way out of my jeans, and he'd put me down by the time the outburst came.

I hurriedly made my way towards Mr Harper, and as I got close, he said, "Pass me your list, and you get off home."

I passed him the list, and as I was about to open the door, the constable arrived at the other side and almost crashed the door down, as he'd not expected it to be bolted. Stuart (Mr Harper), placed his shotgun over the counter, and reached up to unbolt the door. He then quickly explained to Adam (the constable) what had taken place, and that it was now under control. He also said he'd told me to go home and that he would sort out my groceries and bring them out to me.

Adam took me to one side, and asked, "Are you alright? Did they touch you?"

"I'm ok, thanks to Mr Harper. And no, they didn't do anything."

"I'm sorry about this happening, when I told you yesterday you'd have nothing to fear from the locals, I didn't expect you to be back in the village so soon, I haven't had chance to make sure my message is circulated properly yet. If I was you, I'd be suspicious of callers for the rest of this week, and not come into the village without your husband until next week. By then, I'll guarantee your safety. Again, I'm sorry you had to go through that. Any problems, here is a direct number for me. It'll get me at home, or if I'm in the car, it'll get me on my radio. Now you take care, bye."

So off home I went, and it felt very strange, I mean, I normally don't go into the village more than once a week, and yet now I couldn't go in there, it was as if I was thinking of all the things I needed to go in for. Well that's silly, so I just made my mind up, to try and get on with my life and forget about these last few days. But I couldn't stop thinking about Stuart's bravery, taking on four men, and especially as all of them were much bigger than him. Yes, I know he had a shotgun, but in the shop with everyone being so close together, he must have known he couldn't use it; so it was a brave action.

And Adam, he was so nice, and apologetic for things that weren't really his fault. And yet both of these men raped me only yesterday; ah well, I guess even good men have an animal side they can't control.

The rest of the day was uneventful, and then around ten past six in the evening, the phone rang, "Hello, 43987."

"Mrs Theabold?"

"Yes. Who is that?"

"It's me, Stuart. Mr Harper from the grocery store."

"Ah yes. Sorry, I didn't recognise your voice."

"I'm just phoning to say I've put your order together, and it would be more convenient for me if I could bring it out to you now I've closed the shop. I mean if it's too late for you, or you don't want me out there with you being on your own, I'll understand. I can try to."

I interrupted him, "No it's alright Mr Harper. If you want to bring it out now. But you do promise me there will be no."

And then it was him, who interrupted me, "No Mrs Theabold, I promise. I'm sorry about what happened the other day. I'd not have done that for the world. I don't know what came over me. But I promise on my honour, it won't happen again."

"Well ok. What time can I expect you?"

"I'll set off now, so about thirty minutes or so."

"Ok, I'll see you then."

So now I had to make my mind-up whether I trusted him or not, should I let him in. Should I be polite and offer him a cup of tea, or even a drink. How should I dress? But does any of this matter; I mean, if he's coming out here with the intention of, you know, fucking me. Will it matter what I do, he'll have a plan, and even though he might not be a big man, I'm sure he could overpower me and take what he wants. And he, like the others before him, know things about me which I wouldn't want my Jim to find out.

Oh fuck! What is the point of me bashing my brains around inside my head, trying to be a faithful wife, when Jim is probably fucking some young factory girl right now, and in my bed! I had a very quick bath, and then went up and got myself dressed in a pretty skirt and blouse, nothing too showy, but just the kind of thing I'd wear when going out with Jim for a meal. Yes, I know I wasn't going out anywhere, but I wanted to feel nice about myself. I also had on a very pretty lacy bra and panties set. The fires were all stoked up, and the house was warm and welcoming. So now all I had to do was wait. I'd decided to just see what fate had planned for me.

I didn't have to wait long; I'd hardly been sat down for a minute before I heard the sound of a car in the front yard. I went to the door, and as I opened it, Stuart was just approaching the outer porch door carrying a box. I opened the door, and he said, "I don't mind carrying it in for you, it's a bit heavy. But if you'd rather I didn't come inside the house, I'll understand."

I stepped back out of his way, "Come on in, I can hardly turn you around and send you off home without at least offering you a drink, even if its only a cup of tea. Bring that straight through into my kitchen."

"Ok, so long as you don't think I'm imposing on you."

"It's me who is imposing, having you bring those things all the way out here. I'll pay a delivery charge."

I stood back in the porch, and as he passed me, he said, "Oh no you won't, this is the very least I can do to say sorry for our conduct yesterday. In fact, I'm amazed you're still talking to me."

"I'd rather forget-it if you don't mind."

"Ah yes. I'm sorry. I won't say another word."

So he put the box on my worktop in the kitchen, and I asked, "So is it coffee, tea, or something stronger? I see you've put the whisky I ordered in the box."

"Well I'll have a whisky if you'll join me."

"Oh no thank you. Its not my tipple, but you're welcome."

"No, I won't drink on my own. I'll have tea or coffee, what ever you're having."

Now why I replied the way I did, I don't know. But my hand reached out for the bottle of whisky, and as I lifted it out of the box, I said, "Oh well it's been one hell of a week so far, maybe I need one of these."

His hand wrapped around mine on the neck of the bottle, "Let me take it for you."

I looked into his eyes, and with his hand warm around mine, not squeezing, but just gently engulfing mine, I felt my tummy begin to flutter. I slipped my hand from inside his, and I turned and opened the door to the snug, and he followed me inside.

I pointed to the dresser, "The glasses are in there."

He walked across saying, "You sit down in front of that lovely fire, I'll find them."

I sat, and in no time, he was putting a glass into my hand, but it was one of those big tumbler glasses, and he'd filled it almost to the top.

"Oh no. I couldn't drink that much."

"Don't be silly. You're not planning on going out again tonight, are you? So you can just sit there in front of your big log fire, and mellow away your evening."

"But you've only got a small glass."

"Well I can't imagine you'll want me taking up your time, and I'm driving, so I can't drink much."

Now he'd put his own glass down on the little table, and moved it to one side, and then he lifted up the other armchair, and he was now positioning it alongside mine.

He could see my bemused look. "Is it alright me moving your furniture around? I just thought it would be cosier. I'll put them back if you want?"

"I guess it's ok. But you do remember your promise?"

"I'll go now if you want me to?"

"No, I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I invited you to have a drink, so let's have one."

And with that we rose our glasses, and clinked them together, "Cheers."

"Cheers."

So for the next ten or fifteen minutes we sat in front of the roaring fire, and talked. He was so easy to talk to, and not once did the subject of sex, or the activities of the last few days crop up. He was asking mainly about me, how I'd met Jim, and why I'd ended up living up here, with my husband spending all his time in London.

The time just flew by, and then he said, "Wow! For a lady who doesn't drink whisky, you're knocking that back."

I hadn't realised. I guess it was initially my nervousness, but then as the alcohol gradually overcame the nerves, I'd just started to drink it down as if it was a cordial. I looked at the glass in my hand, and I'd estimate I'd drank two thirds of it. And as I realised just how many of those little egg-cup size glasses that equated to, it brought back memories of Monday night's events.

But instead of this sending a shiver down my spine or putting me off, it brought on such a warm feeling in my tummy. And a general tingling in other parts of my body!

I coyly stuttered out, "I...I never realised, I'll put the glass down now."

And then I stupidly continued, "I don't want to get drunk and show myself up."

"It's your house Mrs Theabold; you can do what ever you like. And I'll be gone soon, so if you want to finish the bottle that's your right. And I'm guessing, that after the week you've had, you have every right to a little alcoholic comfort."

"Don't keep calling me Mrs Theabold, my name is Jill."

"Ok Jill, but you have to call me Stuart."

I guess the whisky was having its effect, because I turned in my chair, and lifted myself up to reach across to shake his hand. "Ok, let's shake on it."

I now found myself face to face with him. But as we looked into each others eyes, I remembered his kissing as he'd fucked me, and without knowing what I was doing, I lent in towards him, and gave him a kiss. Just a peck; but on the lips.

He reached towards me, wrapped his arms around me, and pulled me back into an embrace. And as we embraced, our tongues wrapped around each others. We cuddled like this for maybe a couple of minutes, and then he held me away from himself.

We looked at each other in silence for maybe ten seconds, and then he said, "What was that for?"

I was so embarrassed, "I...I'm sorry. I guess I was just saying thank you for today. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have."

And I was now trying to get myself back to my chair. But he pulled me back towards himself, and our tongues again met. He held me, and I didn't attempt to fight him off. As we kissed, I felt myself being pulled across onto his lap, and we were now in a deep embrace, and things were going wild inside my body.

Then his hand stroked my blouse, and my nipples stiffened, pushing themselves out to make their presence known through the thin material of my bra and blouse. His fingers began to gently squeeze and fondle from one to the other, and my tongue stretched itself, to make a deeper entry into his mouth.

Every part of my body now ached for attention, and even I was conscious of the heaving motion my hips were making. Not that I was doing it intentionally, but even knowing I was behaving brazenly, I didn't want to stop. So it was no surprise when his hand was on my leg, and it made its way up under my skirt.

And I now admit, as his hand touched my naked legs, I consciously opened them, knowingly giving him free access. His fingers were soon inside my knickers, and probing deep into my pussy. It was then he pulled our faces apart, and in an almost whisper, asked, "Down here. Or upstairs in your bedroom?"

"Upstairs. Spend the night with me. Please."

So I was carried to my bedroom, and we made love twice before he fell asleep. I looked at the bedside clock as he lay their peacefully sleeping; it was ten minutes to ten in the evening. I wouldn't normally have gone up yet, let alone been asleep. So I just lay with him, but eventually I must have drifted off. As I slept, I dreamt, and in my dream, I was being fucked. I guess this is not surprising, considering the last few days. But then I awoke, and Stuart was again in between my legs making love to me, gently thrusting himself in and out.

"Ah, I woke you. Sorry."

"It's alright."

"You like being fucked, don't you?"

This took me aback, I mean, we weren't fucking, he was making love to me, there is a difference. And even if in his mind it was just fucking, it's not something I'd expect to have thrown in my face.

"Its ok, even nice girls can say they like being fucked. It's not really naughty. That's just what mothers tell their daughters to make sure they get to the church without a belly full of baby."

"Please, I don't like you talking like this."

"Oh come on now Jill, you're a grown-up girl, with grown-up girl's wants and needs. I was just wondering if you wanted to try something different. I mean, maybe you already know about it, and do it regularly. But some girls have never heard of it, and go all through their lives, missing out on the pleasures it can give them."

Instantly the Fanny Licking as Jack had called it came to mind, and I wondered if that was what he wanted to try.

"Are you talking about putting your tongue down in between my legs?"

"Oh no my dear. I will if you want, but I'd usually do that before we fucked; you know, to get it all juiced up."

The only other thing I could think of was sucking his cock, but as he'd just said about licking me, I'd have thought the cock sucking was best done before we made love.

But he continued, "No my dear, now we've got lots of your juices on hand, I was thinking about lifting your legs up."

Again, what came to mind was something Jack had done, lifting my legs up high, so his cock penetrated deeper.

So I said, "Yes, I don't mind, it is nice that way."

He lifted off the bed covers, and then took hold of my legs, and lifted them up high. I did as Jack had told me, and reached my hands under the backs of my knees.