Dream Cottage Ch. 02

"That's it Jill; this will be something else. I never for one moment thought you'd be into this. Don't worry, I'll take it easy until I get it in."

He'd only just taken his cock out, to throw the bed covers off. So I wondered why he'd need to take it easy putting it back.

"Hey! What! No stop that's not my pussy."

His wet and slippery cock, pushed up to the hole in my bottom, and in it went. It wasn't that it hurt as such, but it did take me totally by surprise, and even though I dropped my legs and made verbal protest, his cock went right in deep. I tried to struggle, but he'd got my legs held up by his elbows, as his arms took his weight on the bed either side of me.

"Stop it. I don't like it. No more please."

He did stop, but with his cock buried deep up inside me, he looked deep into my eyes, as if not understanding my protests.

"What's wrong? You said you wanted it."

"Please, take it out. I never thought you were going to do that to me."

"I asked you, and you said you liked it. You even lifted your own legs up for me."

"Please take it out. You can do it in my pussy, but please don't do it there."

"Haven't you ever had an arse fuck before?"

"No! Of course not. Please take it out."

"Oh god! You get me all excited, and I think you're willing, and now you want me to stop half way. That isn't being fair. I mean, I don't want to force you, but I'm only a man, and now you've got me this worked up, it's not right of you to tell me to stop."

"Please."

"Look, if this is your first time, how about if I just pump it slow and easy like, until you get used to it?"

"Please no."

"So you don't give a fuck about my feelings."

"Don't say that."

"But its true, you led me on, and now you want me to stop. That's cruel."

"I didn't understand that was what you wanted to do to me."

"And now you do, why not just let me show you how nice it can be?"

"I...I've never done anything like that. It's not nice."

He had me held, and he just slowly began to ease himself in and out. My god, it was like the Monday nights experience. I don't mean the same, but like it in as much as it began to stir up sensations I never knew existed.

I think I gave one last, "Please don't."

Or it could have been, "Please stop."

But it fell on deaf ears, and before I knew what I was doing, my hips were working with his thrusting. And his thrusting had now increased its pace. So he fucked, and I heaved, and I even began to moan and make those silly oowing noises, showing my pleasure. And when he cum, which was maybe up to half an hour later, my pussy went into a spasmic orgasm, the first I'd had with Stuart.

As I came out of my trance, he was cuddling me close, and he said, "Sorry. I really thought you wanted me to do it that way."

I started to cry, not wild tears, but just sobbing, and I don't know why I was crying.

"Come-on Jill. Please. Tell me I'm forgiven. It was good, wasn't it?"

"Please let me go to sleep, I don't want to talk about it."

The last part of what I said was true, but I didn't think I'd get any sleep after having been subjected to something as disgusting as that. And as I lay there looking at the clock, it was still not mid-night.

I did eventually drop off to sleep, but I know I'd lay there watching that clock until gone one in the morning. And when the morning did arrive, I was again awakened with a cock gently pumping in and out. But this time I was face down, with my face buried deep into my pillow. Stuart was on top of me, pumping his cock in and out of my bottom. I initially wanted to struggle to get myself free, but even though he wasn't a big man, his weight was far too heavy for me to force off.

But as I began to turn and wrestle myself in an attempt to dismount him, he lifted my head, turned it sideways, and began to French kiss me.

What is wrong with me? I just don't know, cos instead of biting his tongue off, which in hind site I should have done. I just put my tongue across his, and we embraced as he pumped harder into my bottom. And then he all of a sudden got excited, his face left mine. His cock pulled out, he lifted me up onto my knees, and his cock went up into my pussy. And as he shot his cum inside me, my pussy gave him a demonstration of one of its clamping type orgasms; as it milked every last drop of cum from his cock. He rolled over, and by the time I'd recovered, he was again sleeping. The clock confirmed it was now morning, eight o'clock to be precise.

I got out of bed, and made my way to the bathroom, where I took a soak in the bath. My head was spinning, this man, someone who for some strange reason, I felt some kind of affection for, was a monster. Not a man with a monster cock, but a weird and dirty mind. But as he'd performed his disgusting acts upon me, I'd responded with a sexual arousal. Did that make me a dirty monster as well?

I couldn't work it out, with my Jim, in all of our three years of marriage, and the two years of courtship, the only things he'd ever done to me, were to suck my breasts, and use his fingers and cock in my pussy. But nothing like the acts I'd been involved in during these last few days. I mean, was Jim doing this kind of thing with the factory girls he took back to our London home. Is it just things men do with women who they are not married to?

Well nobody was there to answer my questions, and so I finished my bath, dressed, and went out into the kitchen, and started to put away the groceries which Stuart had brought the night before. Around nine, he came running down the stairs, "Oh my god look at the time, there'll be a queue a mile long outside my shop."

"Don't you want breakfast?"

"Sorry, can't stop. Thanks for a great night. Maybe we can do it again some time? I'll phone you."

"Aren't you even going to have a cup of tea?"

"Got to go. Sorry love."

He quickly gave me a peck on the cheek, and a knowing pat on my bottom; saying, "That's a great little arse, can't wait till the next time."

I felt like saying there won't be a next time, but he'd turned and was gone in seconds.

So now it's Thursday; what will today bring? Well an inkling of the day soon made itself known, when the phone rang. "Hello, 43987."

"Mrs Theabold?"

"Yes, who is that?"

"It's reverend Harris. I'm just calling to see if today will be convenient to call and give you all the information you require, before we deliver a swarm to you next week?"

The reverend was one of the three who'd raped me. Well maybe it wasn't actual rape, but he'd fucked me, and I hadn't wanted him to, so it amounts to the same thing. But as nobody else knew about the fucking, and I wanted to keep it that way, what excuse could I use to stop him coming.

"Err, do you have to come today, couldn't you make it on the weekend, when my husband is here. I mean I think he might want to know what you've got to tell us about keeping bees."

"I'm sorry my dear, but with my job, the weekend is my busiest time. And didn't you tell me your husband had no interest in your bee keeping or any other garden related matters. And there are things I need to show you before next Monday. You had remembered they are bringing your swarm next Monday. I know you forgot about me bringing the hive, but you must be ready when the bees arrive."

"Ok, you might as well come today then."

"Well I'm ok for this morning, if I set out now, I can be with you around ten. Will that be ok for you?"

"Yes, I'll be here."

"Bye my dear, see you at ten."

Ok, this is the second one of the three men who'd forced themselves on me, and with the first, I'd as good as thrown myself at him. So now how was I going to handle the vicar? He's a vicar! I mean, it was difficult to get my head around it, I'd been raped, and the vicar had been the first one to have me.

And then on Sunday, he'll be up there in his pulpit, damning all the sinners. Again, life just didn't seam real.

But back to me, and how I was going to behave? Well for one, I wasn't going to offer him whisky, and I wouldn't be drinking any either. Would I invite him into my house? I'd have to; I could hardly keep him outside in the garden talking all morning. I'd have to be civil, invite him in, and offer him a drink of tea or coffee. Ok, how should I dress, dowdy, to put him off. Or pretty, but modest; that was it, the same as I'd dressed to go to church last Sunday.

So dressed decent, but I'd say pretty, I opened the door as the vicar approached the house.

"Ah, there you are my dear, is your garden gate unlocked, or do I need to wait for you to walk around and let me in?"

I stepped back, like I'd done for Stuart yesterday, as I said, "Come straight through the house. I can see you've got some books there, they'd probably be better left inside until you've shown me what I need to know out in the garden."

There is no point in me giving you a description of the two and a half hours he spent with me that morning, as he was a perfect gentleman. And for once, I behaved like. I was going to say a lady, but let's just say I didn't disgrace myself, and nothing happened that I wouldn't want Jim to know about. He did as he'd said and gave me all the relevant information I needed to prepare myself for the arrival of the swarm of bees the following Monday. We'd started in the garden and he'd even sat with me in the house explaining things in the books he'd brought, but not a word was said out of place.

So move on to Friday, and I'm dressed for gardening, old jeans, shirt, and a baggy pair of overalls, with big Wellington boots. When I work in the garden, I have a neat little switch in the kitchen, which diverts not only the ring from the front door bell, but also the ringer of the telephone. So instead of the bell ringing in the house, a larger and louder bell rings on the greenhouse halfway down the garden. So I'm up to my eyes in muck, generally tidying up the vegetable plot, when the bell rings. And from the pitch, I know it's the doorbell. Now being aware of what Adam (the constable) had said a couple of days ago, about being wary of visitors, I walked around to my gate and called into the front yard, without unbolting the gate.

"Whose there?"

"Are there you are. It's me constable Yardley."

I unbolted the gate, expecting him to walk in, but he just stood there, "Mrs Theabold. I was passing, so I just came to check everything was ok with you."

"Yes, I'm fine. And I told you, it's Jill."

"Ok Jill. You've had no more problems I hope?"

"No."

"And visitors? No unwanted visitors?"

"No. Oh we can't talk out here. Come around to the diner, and I'll make us a cup of tea whilst we talk."

"Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to intrude."

"Don't be silly. Anyway, I've been at it for three hours now, I was about due to stop and have a drink."

Now you might imagine that once he'd got himself inside, he'd start to make advances, or I'd have been stupid enough to get myself into a situation. But no, just like the visit from the vicar yesterday, it all went without incident, and not even one word was spoken out of place. So within half an hour of him arriving, he was getting into his car and driving off.

But as I turned and was about to go back into the garden, I heard another car in the drive, and it was coming, not going. I stopped, and listened, and around the corner into our yard, came a taxi. It stopped, and out stepped Jim. I dashed across to him, as if he'd just arrived back from an expedition to the north-pole. And as I reached him I flung myself up, arms reaching around his neck, and smothered him with kisses.

He was taken by surprise, and as I'd not backed off immediately as he'd intimated with his body language. He suddenly got a little nasty with me, "Jesus Jill. What the hell has got into you? You're behaving like a stupid school girl. Let me get the taxi driver paid. Can't you wait until we get into the house before you act so silly?"

And even as he sorted out the money and paid the driver he was still muttering under his breath something about me behaving like a child. For my part, I recognised I had gone over the top, and in truth, I think it was the joy of having him home to protect me. But as the taxi pulled away, I used the excuse of him being away for so long, to cover my behaviour.

Once inside, he put down his travel bag, and picked me up, and we had our usual welcome home kiss and cuddle. Then as he put me back onto my feet, he said, "So, what's been happening?"

I felt myself beginning to colour-up, as the guilt filled my every thought. But I tried to control myself, and replied with, "Happening? What d'you mean?"

"The police car we just passed in the drive, what have you been doing, stealing the church silver?"

"No silly. That's just Adam, the local constable."

"I know who it is, but I didn't know you were on first name terms with him."

So out came the first of my covering lies, "He pops up here regular, you know, during the week, if he's not busy when he's passing our gate, and he knows you're away, he just comes up here to make sure I'm ok. You know, with me being on my own."

"I see, you've got some kind of romance going with the local bobby."

"It's nothing like that."

He smiled, "I know its not. You'd hardly be dressed like the local scare crow if you were trying to impress a man."

"So has everything been ok while I've been away?"

"Yes, why wouldn't it?"

"No reason. But I just felt so guilty leaving you up here alone for all this time. I did wonder if you might think of coming down to London to be with me, but I guess it's different for a woman."

"What's different?"

"Nothing really. I just mean, well you know. When you're not around, I mean after a week without sleeping with you, I kind of get irritable, I need a little bit of your affection to keep me sane."

"Well I missed you too."

"Yes, but maybe not in the same way. Speaking of which."

And at this point, he took my hand, and lifted it up, leading me towards the stairs, even though he was actually walking behind me. And as he continued, his other hand was on my bottom, "I think we've got time for a little rumpy-pumpy before we need to get ready to go out."

I was glad to be going up the stairs with him, especially knowing what he wanted to do once we got up there. But I also wondered where he'd got in mind, as far as going out, "Out? Where are we going?"

"No where special, but I've brought you one of my latest lines, and I'll tell you now, this is going to be the latest craze. It's selling so fast; we can't make enough of them."

"What is it?"

"Well I got the idea from a science fiction film, one of those ones where the guy has x-ray eyes. As he looked at the woman, her clothes gradually became invisible. And the very next day I was dressing one of my girls, trying out a tack-up*, and it hit me."

*(Tack-up is the industry name given to a rough cut garment, held together with loose tack stitches, and without any lining.)

"What did?"

"Because the tack-up had no lining, it meant I could clearly see her bra and panties. And I know I've done this a million times before, but this time it reminded me of the first view the man with the x-ray eyes in the movie had. So I made up a dress, with neat tiny seams, thin white material, and it sells complete with sexy little panties, half cup bra, white suspender belt, and white stockings. I'm not kidding, it's so sexy. And it's leaving the shop so quickly, even though I've now got our end sorted, and we are making the dresses in enough quantity, we can't get the underwear fast enough from our suppliers. I'm telling you, this is going to make us a fortune."

By now we were in the bedroom, and he was busy helping me take my clothes off.

"And you've brought me one of these dresses?"

He gave me a cheeky grin, "I have, and the underwear to go with it."

"So where are you thinking of taking me to show-off this sexy stuff?"

"The local pub. I thought we'd go in, have a meal, and see the reaction it causes amongst the local bar crowd. I know at least half a dozen of them already dribble in their beer whenever they see you in there."

By now I was down to panties and bra, and he was busy releasing my bra strap as he added.

"And that's with you fully clothed, just hoping for a glimpse of leg. When you walk in, with your underwear on show, I'll bet some of them will cum in their pants."

"What? And you're expecting me to wear something that revealing in the village pub?"

As my knickers left my ankles, and Jim threw them over onto the pile on the floor containing the rest of my clothes, he took me by my waist and lifted me back onto the bed, saying, "Expecting? I'm not just expecting, I'm commanding you. After-all, when we married, you did promise to obey. Didn't you?"

I was lying on my back, legs open, watching him rip his clothes off, and I replied, "Yes sir."

"Ok then, get ready to please your lord and master."

It might sound like he was being overbearing, but I knew from his tone of voice, this was all just play acting.

And with that, he mounted me, and we made love. It was nice. It was romantic. But even though we both engaged physically and mentally, for at least fifteen minutes, when he came, the orgasm he witnessed was a fake.

I felt that after six weeks absence, he would expect something a little out of the norm, but as nothing happened naturally, I decided to cheat a little. I didn't go overboard with my action, but just feigned body stiffening, and a few hip thrusts. He was over the moon, going on about how absence makes the heart grow fonder and other silly sayings.

I went down and took a bath, and then after dressing, made him a snack. Once we'd finished, and I'd washed-up, he asked, "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Aren't you curious to see the dress?"

"Of course I am."

"Strip off then."

"What? Down here?"

"Yes down here. I mean if there's one thing this god forsaken place has going for it, it is that we aren't overlooked."

So I stripped naked, and he first handed me a suspender belt. Nothing special, but a pretty lace pattern nevertheless. Once that was in place, he passed the white stockings, one at a time. I pranced around for him, wiggling my hips.

"My god Jill, not too much of that, or I'll have to give you another seeing-to."

So I wiggled some more.

As he handed me the little white panties, he said, "Here cover it up before my cock explodes."

I pulled them on, and then took the half-cup bra he was offering. As I put the bra on, he opened a large box, and lifted out the dress. The cut was nothing out of the ordinary, not excessively short, low cut or tight. And there were no cut-outs or long splits down the sides, back or front. But once I'd put it on, the description he'd given earlier was confirmed to the letter. Only the narrow folded seams showed as pure white; that is apart from areas where my underwear gave the dress a lining.

So, to all intents and purposes, I was as exposed as if I'd not been wearing a dress at all.

He asked, "Well? What do you think?"

"You were right, it's very sexy. And in a London club, or at one of your Uncle George's parties, I think it would really turn heads. But let's face it, there's no way I could wear this at the Feathers. The locals would have me tied to a stake, and burned as a witch."

"Are you saying you won't wear it?"

"Oh come on Jim. You're not serious. I mean, if you want to take me to that club in Thirsk, and show me off there, I wouldn't mind that. But please tell me you're not serious about going into the village?"

He dropped his head. And I knew from previous disagreements, this wasn't a good sign.

There was a good minute's pause. And as I couldn't stand the silence a second longer, I said, "I'll tell you what; let me try something out for you."