A Millbrow Idyll Pt. 01

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

*****

The two big men marched one after the other through the snow. Each carried a storm lantern which illuminated the ground before them and made an avenue of light reaching up the trunks of the fir trees and casting moving shadows through the stillness of the plantation. They stepped so closely in one another's footsteps that the spoor they left was as of some fabulous beast, with two strange, broad toes. Anyone seeing them would realise immediately that the men were closely related. They had a similar physique, the same broad shoulders and powerful legs, and their faces had high, strong cheekbones, deep-set blue eyes and black hair. The older of them, who led the way, had an air of authority. His hair was beginning, prematurely, to show silver at the temples but that merely added to his distinction. He was forty-five years old but, even in the snow, moved with the easy grace of a man ten years younger. His son was twenty-five. His face was like his father's but with more delicacy. Frost outlined the sweeping ends of his long eyelashes, looking as though he had added glitter to them over mascara. He blinked and, from time to time, rubbed them to clear his vision. His legs mimicked his father's movement and, had there been an observer, he might have said to himself that here was a devoted young man who would follow his father in all things.

They emerged from the plantation and saw before them the rising ground of a snow- covered field leading to a long, single-story stone house standing below the summit of the hill. Someone had been there before them because light shone through the two windows to the right of the front door but more snow had fallen and all signs of footprints had been obliterated. The two men walked across the field. Here, in the open, at first, they moved with more difficulty because the wind had driven the snow into a drift along the edge of the wood. They broke through the barrier and the last hundred yards to the house, where there was little more than a covering of snow, became almost a sprint.

Casper, the older man, unlocked the door and they entered, knocking the compacted snow from their boots before venturing inside. The stoves were already lit and a note on the table said, 'I've put the provisions you asked for in the pantry and lit the stoves. I hope all is well with you and Frances. Your luggage arrived yesterday. See you Thursday, Tom.'

Casper spoke to his son. 'You go and get changed. I'll make the meal tonight. Tom has done his bit as usual.'

Francis walked across to the big table which took up most of the left-hand side of the room. 'Old Tom has put a little sprig of flowering witch-hazel in a vase for us, just like last time. He is such a lovely man.'

He bent down and sniffed at the faintly aromatic twig.

Casper laughed softly. 'Not so much of the "old". I doubt if he's much older than me. I think he carries a bit of a torch for you.'

Francis blushed and, for a moment, looked like a bashful girl.

Casper wrapped his great arms around his son and kissed him on the lips, 'I've missed this so much, sweetheart,' he said.

'Me too, Daddy,' said his son, before returning the kiss.

His father broke away and said, 'Go on with you if you don't want me to ravish you here and now. See what you're doing to me,' and he guided his son's hand to the growing bulge in his trousers.

'Keep it for me and I'll be back before you know I've gone.'

Francis disappearing into the bedroom. It was some time before he emerged. In the interim Casper fried sausages and tomatoes and cut and buttered slices from the loaf Tom had left for them.

Frances made an entrance from the bedroom. She posed in the doorway so that her father could take in her transformation. She wore a dark fuchsia dress which showed, in its deeply plunging neckline, her magnificent pecs whose rosy nipples poked over the top of her bodice, pushed up by an almost non-existent white lace bra. Casper drew in his breath, came forward and took her in his arms.

'You are, without doubt, the sexiest woman in the world.'

'So what are you going to do about it?'

'I'll show you after dinner, you teasing girl.'

He led her to the table and seated her close to himself, where he could smell her perfume and see the lovely shape of her breasts.

'Do you think Tom realises I'm your son as well as your wife?'

Her husband shrugged and grinned.

'Whether he does or not I think he's fancied you from the first day I brought you here five years ago. Great bloke as he is, nevertheless, I sense something withheld about him.'

They ate in silence for several minutes. When they had finished Frances put down her knife and fork.

She looked at her father-husband.

'Do you think ma realised that on our bonding trips each year I became your wife?'

Casper returned her gaze. 'Don't torture yourself with that thought, darling. We were always closer and more obviously loving than most fathers and sons and I don't think your ma ever imagined for a moment that our love had changed its nature. I still made love to your ma, though, to my shame, I often imagined I was fucking you when I was doing so. On the whole she and I had a good life. There were times when my longing for you got the better of me and she found me morose but I've always been prone to bouts of depression, so they seemed nothing new, just more of them.'

'And now ma has died and I am to be your wife all the time. I did love ma, better than anyone except for you, but my heart sings at the thought of being with you properly, fully, as your real wife and, I feel so guilty because, I can't mourn her passing as totally as I ought.'

A tear ran down Frances's cheek. Her father-husband brushed it away.

'Darling, we're both guilty of having a sense of liberation. I loved your ma and that love isn't invalidated by my love for you being so much more overwhelming. I don't think she knew about us and now it is irrelevant whether she did or not. You are my wife. I am your husband.' He leant into her, kissed her softly and said, 'I need to take you now for the first time as my only wife.'

Casper led Frances into their bedroom. He unzipped her dress and she stepped out of it, placing it on a hanger in the wardrobe. Casper looked at the turned back of his wife, at the beautiful thighs running into the pretty white lace of her panties, stretched tightly over her rounded buttocks. He adored her pretty little clitie and ran his hands into her panties to hold it. For someone of her size she had a surprisingly tiny cock and balls. He adored their smallness; so different from the eight-inch truncheon of man-meat he kept between his own legs. He sat on the bed and pulled her back to sit in his lap. His cock started to grow under her crack. He looked at the line made by her bra across her back. He moved his hands to unhook her bra and cup her pecs in his enormous hands from behind. She leant back into her husband's arms, turning her face towards him, and he kissed her, gently at first but with growing passion.

'Fuck me, daddy,' she pleaded. He lifted her up, turned her around and placed her on her back. He knelt and licked her pussy lips, then rose, positioned himself between her legs and rammed his great cock into her cunt. She lurched sideways with the shock of his entry, intensifying the pressure on her prostate. She cried out in delight. Her daddy repeatedly thrust into her until, with a great spasm, he came inside her and, simultaneously, she shot her clitie milk onto his pounding chest and stomach. They lay, their chests shuddering to draw breath into their lungs. Casper turned towards his wife, stroked her sweating brow, nipped her ear-lobe with his teeth, then whispered, 'You are really and truly mine now, darling. I have filled your pretty, little cunt with my babies.'

She replied by kissing his lips very softly, then resting her head on his chest. They slept.

The next few days passed for both of them in a haze of delight. They ate mainly heated-up, tinned food so as not to waste time in cooking which could be used for making love, but they hardly noticed what they ate or drank. They were each other's favourite meal and there was no end to the joy they took in one another. And yet something indefinable was missing. They only became aware of this intermittently. Most of the time they were deliriously happy...and yet...there was not the total release in their union they had expected now that there was no impediment to their being together all the time.

They had arrived at the house on Saturday. On the Thursday morning Tom arrived at the door. Looking out of the window Frances exclaimed that so much of the snow had disappeared. Tom grinned and said aside to Casper, 'You've been too busy to notice, I bet. I remember how it is.'

Frances heard and blushed. She turned to the stove to make coffee for the three of them and Tom and Casper sat at the table. Tom went on to say, 'It's good to have you back. My wife wondered if you'd like to come over to us for dinner and stay for a couple of nights on Saturday?'

Frances and Casper were intrigued. They had often discussed what sort of wife Tom would have. Casper and Frances were big, weighing in at 280 and 250 pounds and, respectively, six feet five and six feet two tall, but Tom, although only about six feet three, must have been well over 300 pounds. Frances thought his wife would be big, Casper thought she was probably tiny.

Tom said, 'You two have been coming to stay here for five years. It's time we understood one another. You asked me about the possibility of a long-term let, so I assume you now want somewhere to be together all the time, but this property isn't really suitable for anything other than short lets. Am I right in thinking you two are now going to be husband and wife full time and this is your honeymoon?'

Casper looked hard at Tom. He had always instinctively liked and trusted him and he realised that Tom was not indulging in idle curiosity. There was something about Tom which invited confidence and confidences. Casper also realised with a slight shock just what an attractive man Tom was, with his massive chest and shoulders, powerful thighs and muscled arms and there was an almost flirtatious twinkle in his large brown eyes. Casper decided to trust his instinct with this man.

'Darling, can you come over here?' he asked Frances.

'Give me a second.'

She carried over the mugs of coffee on a tray and placed them on the table.

Casper took her hand, raised it to his lips and said to Tom, 'Frances has been my wife for two months every year for the last five years, the months we've stayed here. Now she and I are husband and wife for the rest of our lives.'

'Thank you for telling me,' said Tom. He paused fractionally, then said, 'May I ask, is Frances also your son?'

This time Frances answered, 'My husband is also my daddy. I fell in love with him when I was eighteen years old. It took me two years to persuade him to take me as his woman.'

'Darling, I wanted you all that time but I was afraid; above all I feared that you would find you had made a mistake and I couldn't have born that. And, of course, I feared that your ma would find out and our family would be destroyed.'

'There wasn't and couldn't be a mistake in the way I feel about you,' said Frances, defiantly.

She slid her arm around her husband's neck and kissed him deeply. He responded by wrapping her in his great arms and returning with interest the kiss.

Tom coughed politely and said, 'I'll be going in a minute but there are a few things it may be useful for me to say to you.'

'You would be very welcome in our house and among our friends. My wife is the same sort of woman as Frances but rather older and she would like to offer her friendship. Sometimes a woman needs the company of another woman. I think the four of us would get along very well together. Come to us for the weekend and let's see what comes of it.'

Casper was looking directly at Tom as Tom was speaking and as he said those words about them seeing what would come of it he felt a stirring deep inside himself as though something truly momentous had been said. He saw that Tom's eyes were upon him and, unusually for Casper, he lowered his eyes before the other man's.

Tom continued, 'I saw that you had parked in the usual place, beyond the trees. If you decide to come to us Frances will need to dress in trousers and boots to get to the car. I suggest you bring your proper clothes with you and change at our house. It won't be a party.' He paused. 'Just the four of us so we can get to know one another,' he repeated.

Frances smiled at Tom and said, 'Thank you. We'd love to come.'

On the Saturday Casper and Frances did as Tom had suggested. They drove the mile and a half to the outskirts of the small town of Millbrow. Tom and Zena's house stood in about an acre of ground at the head of the valley, looking down the twisting course of the stream to which the town owed its existence. The stream provided the power to turn the great waterwheels which now produced electricity for the grid but once drove enormous weaving and spinning machines. At the bottom of the valley stood the two former woollen mills which gave the town its name. One was now divided into apartments, the other was small artisanal workshops, artists' studios, cafés and boutiques. The terraces of houses, originally built to house the mill workers and their managers, plunged vertiginously down the sides of the valley until they met the town centre with its library, town hall, schools, pubs, shops and cinema.

Zena and Tom met their guests at the door of their house. Neither Casper nor Frances were prepared for the phenomenon of Zena. She was as big as her husband. Their combined weight must have been 600 pounds. It flashed through Frances's mind to wonder what on earth the bed was like which could withstand their love-making. Zena was also exuberant, joyous and like a massively optimistic force of nature. She gathered Frances up and took her off to change, crying, 'Let's get you out of this ridiculous costume, sweety. You deserve better than this. Goodness what lovely hair you have. I hope your husband realises what a lucky man he is. Tom,' she shouted over her shoulder at her husband, 'she's even lovelier than you said, you devious old man.'

Casper looked a little bemused; Tom laughed and said, 'Don't worry, Zena will take care of your little lady. The meal's in the oven. Let the girls have a moment to themselves. They can talk about us. What will you have to drink?'

Casper accepted a scotch.

The two men surreptitiously inspected one another, the way men do. They had known one another as landlord and tenant during the times Casper and Frances had occupied the cottage and had liked what they saw, but now Casper realised what Tom had always known, that they had a closer bond, in that they each loved a woman with a cock and balls. They looked at each other as studs, sexual, virile men. Each felt a twinge of lust for the other. Casper told himself that their lust sprang from the fact that each recognised in the other the sexiest part of himself. Tom knew that, for him, there was much more to it than that. The two men smiled at each other and raised their glasses in a toast to themselves.

Casper said, 'To all sexy studs everywhere.'

Tom replied, 'I'm happy with just these two sexy studs for the time being.' He couldn't resist leaning over to Casper and placing a kiss on his lips. To Casper's own surprise he returned the kiss. They made out briefly then Tom pulled away and said softly, 'I've wanted to do that for some time but I think we'd better call for the girls.'

From the moment Tom's lips touched his Casper felt that he had woken to a new and exciting world of possibilities. He had never consciously fancied a manly man but now he wanted something from Tom he had not known he needed. He said, 'Just a few minutes more,' and kissed Tom again. 'You taste so good,' he sighed. Tom took him in his arms and asked 'Did you understand the witch hazel?'

'I presumed you had a yen for Frances.'

'Not for Frances,' said Tom.

For the first time in his life Casper felt what a woman must feel when a man tells her he desires her. The feeling was intoxicating and not only his cock, but his hole too, started into a life of their own; a life which wanted not to penetrate but to offer to another the right of penetration. They kissed again and this time Casper's was the surrendering kiss of a man-woman with her man and Tom's kiss was that of the dominant male. They revelled in their shared masculinity and the promise of mutual delight as their tongues wrapped and played.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Frances was transforming into herself. When Frances took off the trousers, boots, socks, coat, pullover and shirt she had worn to travel, she revealed that she was wearing pale pink silk and lace panties and bra.

'You didn't come in those did you? My darling girl you'd die of cold if the car broke down. All we girls hereabouts wear woollen undies over our scanties in winter if we're outside. I'd lend you some to go home with but they'd be too big for you. You're staying until Monday so you and I can shop in the town. We have a lovely lingerie shop which caters for women like us and they stock winter woollens as well. Have you brought stockings with you? Oh, I can see you have. Let me help you.'

She rolled a stocking and inserted Frances's foot, then she unrolled it up Frances's calf and thigh. She didn't stop at the knee as Frances expected but continued until she smoothed the grip top and her hand accidentally brushed against Frances's silk-clad clitie. Then she did the same with the other stocking and again her hand brushed against the little mound. Frances's cock twitched and Zena giggled.

'Did that excite my little girl?' she asked.

Frances didn't know what to say. She felt excited and strange. When Zena lightly laid her hand over her cock and stroked it through the silk she gasped.

'Don't be frightened, darling. Mummy won't hurt you.'

Frances felt like the proverbial rabbit caught in the headlights of a car. She wanted to move and yet something in her wanted to find out what Zena would do next. She found her clitie stirring to the idea that Zena was her mummy introducing her daughter to feminine delights.

Zena slipped her hand inside Frances's panties and stroked her clitie. She pushed down the shred of silk, bent down and took Frances's clitie into her mouth. Frances's eyes went up into her head and she let out a moan. Her daddy was the only person who had done this to her and now her mummy was doing it and it felt entirely, exotically, different. Her two- inch cocklet jerked and Zena took hold of her balls. She pushed Frances gently down onto the bed and resumed her handling and sucking. It was no time before Frances shot her milk into Zena's mouth and Zena drank it down. Zena pulled the silk up to conceal Frances's pudenda. Then she kissed her new friend.

'Would her little girl like to see mummy's clitie?' she asked.

Frances felt mesmerised, as though she had no will of her own, but as though she was more than happy to surrender all decisions to the huge woman beside her. She heard herself saying, 'Yes, please, mummy.'

Zena stepped out of her dress. She was wearing a pair of exquisite lace panties and a bra, all of which must have been made specially for her, since no commercially made lingerie of this delicacy could be found to hold her powerful buttocks and the eight-inch cock which was already straining to get free.

'Does baby want to suck mummy's milk?' she asked as she urged Frances to her knees in front of her.

'Hold mummy's balls, darling. That's it. Now put those pretty pink lips around mummy's big titty cock. That's it. What a clever girl. Does mummy's girl want to make mummy really happy?'