A New Georgy-Girl Ch. 03 - Echoes

This is the final part of Georgy and Tyler's story, and it's just that, a story, so I hope you read and enjoy it that way; there's no moral, no parable, no point being made, just me uploading my mind and hopefully sharing something you'll like. All characters indulging in adult activities are over 18, and no animals were harmed in the course of creating this story, not even a single cat-poop eating weasel.

If you liked this story please vote and/or comment, and if you didn't, please tell me why and I'll try to do better next time. If you email me and would like a reply, please don't forget to include a return address, I do reply to all feedback, even if it's to say thank you, I don't agree with your comment, but I'm still grateful you took the time to send it.

Big thanks to Handley Page for reading through and sanity-checking me, occasionally i do need it and he provides the necessary background of reality we al need, so many, many thanks, HP!

beachbum1958

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Part 1: It Begins

It all began, like so many things, innocently enough; Georgy and I were getting ready to survey a couple of potential projects while Aunt Kay and Megan, the children's nanny got them ready for school and pre-school; normally Georgy and Megan did it, or on her days off I did, because Aunt Kay was eighty-one now, and while still spry and fit, just wasn't up to managing three boisterous, outspoken hooligans like my brood when they got out of hand. This morning was different, though; the vendor was catching a flight to Canada that afternoon so if we wanted to nail him down we had to be there on the bounce, which meant dumping the school run on Megan and heading down there hot-foot.

Georgy, of course, was consumed with guilt; looking after our kids was the be-all and end-all of her life, but we also had a business to run, and she was the one who mattered when it came to acquisitions and planning, not me; I was just there for the heavy lifting. Georgy was the negotiator and final say, and those two properties were something she'd set her heart on the second she'd spotted them and realised what a money-spinner they could be, as well as a showpiece for us and what we did.

"Mummy, don't want to go to school, wanna come with you an' daddy!" grumbled the middle child, my little girl Edie, the spitting image of her grandmother; every time I looked at her I saw my mum; the same big, grey-hazel eyes, that mop of auburn curls, the same firm chin, the same rosebud lips, and the same firm expression, and that same 'don't you dare mess with me!' line in her forehead when she didn't get her own way. I could stare at her all day, just loving her and seeing my mum back with us again. Her older brother Jamie and baby brother Jerome adored her and would do anything for her, she had them wrapped around her little finger, but she knew she was daddy's girl through and through.

Jamie had Georgy's striking looks and all of her calm temperament; those distinctive grey eyes and pale complexion, and that tell-tale mop of jet-black hair made him stand out in any crowd; he was a natural leader, whether playground games or exploring the house with Edie and Jerry in tow, and his sense of fun easily equalled his mother's.

Jerry was my little clone, my eyes, my hair, my independence, and my stubborn streak. If Aunt Kay could be made to admit to a favourite (and I think Torquemada would have had a tough time of it, to be honest) then she would have picked him; I think he reminded her of my own father, whom she'd helped raise from a little boy. I'd see her sometimes with Jerry on her lap staring at a photo of my father and flicking her gaze back over Jerry, obviously seeing my father in him.

"Poppet, you can't come with me, I'm going to see a creepy old house, there's going to be dust and cobwebs and spiders and cat-poop, you don't want to step in cat-poop do you?" said Georgy, straight-faced and serious while I hid my face, because I can't lie to the kids, they know all my tells.

"Yuck Mummy, why are you going to a poopy-house!?" she squealed, her face wrinkled up with disgust.

"Daddy and I might want to buy it and fix it, and if we do, we're going to have to clean it up and get rid of all the spiders and cat-poop, and there might even be dirty, sneaky weasels hiding behind the wardrobes and maybe eating the cat-poop!" she finished dramatically.

Edie stared in wide-eyed horror at the thought of cat-poop and dirty, filthy, nasty weasels eating it; if there's one way to distract a child, I've learned, it's to tell them something vaguely disgusting and let them fill in the gaps; it worked for Georgy, and now it was working on our daughter.

"I don't want to come with you Mummy, 'spose I see a weasel and it licks me?" she breathed, "Mummy, 'sposing it licks me with its tongue all covered in cat-poop? Eeee, yeeuck, that's horrible!"

"So you'd rather go to school, baby?" coaxed Georgy, and Edie nodded, wide-eyed and lip quivering in case she saw a dirty, cat poop-eating weasel. I had to hand it to Georgy; the way she came up with this stuff was near-genius level, because I wouldn't have been able to keep a straight face...

Georgy roundly kissed all the kids, so did I, slipping Megan a little sweetshop money to treat the kids when she picked them up, and beat feet out of there before Jamie told Edie that there was no such thing as cat poop-eating weasels and she started up again with the wanting to come with us.

"That was amazing, baby, you're so good at it!" I grinned, pulling Georgy close so I could kiss her and squeeze her squeezable bottom.

"I got it from you, Ty, don't you remember?" she grinned, "You told me I must never go into the old scullery by myself because that's where your umpteen-times great grandfather murdered Grizelda the milkmaid and stuffed her body up the chimney, and she came back as a brain-eating zombie so the family kept her locked in there, when all along that's where you used to sneak out at night through the old dairy!"

I laughed out loud, I'd completely forgotten about that, probably because I'd never habitually tortured my little sister the way all my friends used to with theirs.

"See, Tyler, if you managed to control that silly smirk of yours you'd be able to lie to the kids like a grand master, but you can't, you tell them stuff while you're grinning like a chimp and they just go "oh here we go, daddy's lying again!" whereas I learned from your mistakes; that's why I'm the boss of you!" she grinned, grabbing my crotch and almost making me trip over.

Eight years married, three kids, and she can still make me want her at the drop of a hat. At some point in my life I did something so right I'm being rewarded forever; life, for me, didn't get any better.

*****

The two properties we went to see proved to be exactly what Georgy was looking for, although she didn't let on; no point in tipping off the vendor how interested we really were. The owner, a little old lady somewhere in Canada had inherited the two houses, on adjoining plots, in the 1950's and done nothing with them since. Now she was getting on for 100 and her distant family were hoping to sell up and add something (hopefully) significant to the fortune they were expecting to inherit from her. The vendor, one of her estate trustees, was willing to be more realistic; in his view the properties were unliveable, quite unsellable in normal markets, and probably better off being demolished, because the site was potentially more useful as a car park than a living space; trying to manage or renovate them from Nova Scotia was just not feasible, and quite frankly, in his opinion they were more of a liability than an asset, so a reasonable offer would secure. Once he sold them he could get the family off the old lady's back, and we could do what we liked with them. Everyone wins.

I already knew that planning permission to build a parking structure was not going to happen, so no developers were going to be sniffing around; the houses were in a conservation area, which meant restorations or new builds had to harmonise or blend in seamlessly with the surroundings, but best of all, they were not listed, and probably wouldn't be, given that none of the other more period-representative properties in the immediate vicinity were listed either. That's not to say we had a free hand, either; in the words of the Planning Department, any work we did on any properties had to 'reflect and engage with the vernacular of the immediate environs' and pass their strict approvals procedure, which I knew we could easily do.

That meant no black privacy plate glass and concrete modernist additions or uPVC double-glazed conservatories tacked on to the sides of them, and no awful, overblown mock-Tudor 'stockbroker' town-house conversions complete with faux half-timbering; the surrounding properties were some quite magnificent Georgian, Regency, and mid-Victorian detached mansions and townhouses, so that was the vernacular, which was fine by us; that's what we did, after all.

Georgy was the negotiator in our partnership, so while she haggled I strolled around with my camera taking shots of the walls and chimneys, looking for cracks or subsidence, or signs of sagging, water damage and rising or falling damp, whether or not the window and door apertures were true and square, and comparing roof heights and square along the façade of the building. There was one large crack in the brickwork of the first house where the wall had separated along the brick courses rather than through the centre of the bricks, and, to check for movement, when we first scoped out the house I'd cemented a series of thin glass slides across the crack in various orientations.

A month later they were all still intact, no cracking or shattering, so I knew the wall wasn't moving, but a full structural survey would confirm that. If there was movement, we had a budget contingency for underpinning, so I wasn't too concerned. Otherwise I just wandered around, snapping away and letting the house talk to me, which was my way of working out whether I wanted it or if we should walk away.

Georgy found me at the back of the second house, measuring the ground heights and the square of the back wall with a laser tape measure. She looked smug, which meant she had good news.

"Kiss me, baby, we're in business!" she grinned. "Subject to survey, the houses are ours; there's a lot of work, and the structures seem to be sound, both houses, but the survey should confirm that. The vendor is looking for a quick sale, so I beat him down to what I think is a fair price; to be honest, I got them for a lot less than I'd bargained for, and he got more than he was expecting so we're both happy. In fact, I'm feeling so happy I think you should take me home and keep me going, don't you, Soldier-Boy?"

Her innocent, wide-eyed stare and ingenuous smile was more than I was prepared to pass up, so I dragged her back to the car with unseemly haste and only token resistance on her part. Georgy knows how to get my motor running, and it was revving up at the red-line; she was definitely getting the best of me when we got home!

*****

Aunt Kay greeted us as we came in, her raised eyebrow all too eloquent as she asked "I take it everything went well?"

Georgy grinned and pulled me along behind her.

"Like clockwork, Aunt Kay, and now Willie and I have to go and iron out some fine details, so don't hold lunch for us, please, we've got things to do!"

Aunt Kay smiled that knowing smile she got whenever Georgy told her we'd be 'busy' and patted my hand.

"Okay, darlings, just remember, Megan's picking some stuff up for me in Woodbury but she'll be collecting the kids from school in a couple of hours, so lock your door, sweethearts, you don't want any... distractions... while you're 'busy' do you?"

Georgy planted a quick kiss on her cheek and headed for the main stairs, my hand held firmly in hers as we sedately headed upstairs; if Aunt Kay hadn't been standing there watching I probably have been racing Georgy up the stairs, tickling her as I chased her, damn; still, there was always tomorrow...

Georgy raced me to our bedroom and darted inside, dodging around the bed and giggling as she continued to dodge me, but I was wise to this one, and I suddenly dived across the bed, grabbed her around the waist and dragged her back onto the bed with me.

"Not fair!" she complained, giggling as I tickled her, the one thing she had no defence against. "No, no, Tyler don't you dare no, stop it, I swear I'll, no Tyler, quit it!" she gurgled as I had most of my wicked way with her, but the best was yet to come.

"Stop it Tyler, please, no more..." she begged, so I kissed her.

"Get naked and it's a deal..."I growled in her ear, before sticking my tongue in and making her shriek and wriggle madly to try and escape.

"Okay, okay, you win, you big bully!" she grinned, so I kissed her again as I fumbled with the button on her jeans while she kicked off her ankle boots.

"You're a bad, shameless man, Tyler Wilmot..." she chided me even as she popped the button on my jeans, and as I slid backwards off the bed I grabbed the hem of her jeans and slid them off with me. As always, I took a long, happy moment to appreciate her legs. Georgy has long, supple equestrian's legs, perfectly formed and not at all over-muscled, just toned and firm and model-flawless, and I could look at them all day long. Of course, I'd rather look at the rest of her too, and she wasted no time in sliding off her polo shirt and tossing it dramatically across the room so I could indulge. She shook out her hair like a supermodel and posed for me in just her flimsy little panties and sexy, lacy bra. Even after three children she still had small, perfect, pouty little breasts and the picture of her like that, with cute, mismatched little socks to complete the look made me feel horny as hell.

"Strip, soldier, that's an order!" she barked, her eyes dancing with glee, so I did, in not-quite unseemly haste, while she watched and licked her lips. I keep myself in shape, a construction site is no place to be flabby and out of condition in, so I was nicely muscled, although not obsessive about it, and Georgy licking her lips as I stripped was all the affirmation I needed; as long as she liked what she saw, that was good enough for me.

I made to climb onto the bed with her but she stopped me, pointing at my shorts.

"I said 'strip', are you deaf, soldier?" she growled, eyes twinkling with suppressed laughter, but I shook my head.

"If you want them off so badly, come and take them off yourself!" I sneered, making her sneer right back at me before she darted across the bed, grabbed the waistband, and yanked my shorts down.

"Hmm, not bad, I suppose it'll have to do..." she mused, so I tackled her once again and kissed her, while deftly unhooking her bra and slipping it off.

"Gotcha!" I grinned, rolling over so she was on top of me. "C'mere, you!"

Georgy wriggled on top of me, grinning naughtily, which was fine by me; having my beautiful wife and sexy best friend grinding on me was all to the good as far as I was concerned, plus it meant I could slide her panties off much easier; there's always a silver lining, if you know where to look...

"Now I've got you where I want you, I expect you to take full advantage of me, got that?" she grinned, rubbing noses with me as she ground her pussy against my aching cock.

"Your word is my command, oh Star of Mine Evening Delight and Moon of my desire!" I straight-faced even as my hands slipped down to fondle and pull her bottom-cheeks apart.

"Ooh, Tyler you naughty man...do it again!" she giggled, so I obliged, making her sigh and grind against me all over again.

"You're such a bad man, Willie, I don't know why I put up with you...oh, wait, yes I do!"

With that she slid her knees either side of me and sat up, posting on top of me as she slid her slick, damp pussy against my rigid cock. I could tell it was getting to her, her eyes were closing and a pink flush was creeping down her neck and suffusing her chest area.

"Will, please..."she murmured, gasping as I thrust against her, making her eyes fly open. I slid my hands up her thighs to her waist, planning on flipping her over, but she shook her head.

"N-no, Willie, I w-want to drive..." she stammered, grinding herself even more definitely against me as her small, perfect breasts danced. I didn't argue because damn, she looked hot and clicked my meter over to 'full overload' when she took charge!

George grinned lasciviously at me as she rode me like a slo-mo Texas bar bull.

"Dirty soldier-boy like this, yes? Do more for ten dollar extra, you pay me I do bad things you betcha!" she pidginned at me, momentarily distracting me from the mesmerising sight of her sexy little nipples circling as her boobs danced.

I was totally entranced with her; every time with my Georgy-Girl is like the first time, it's always new, always hot, and overloads my brain, and that's how it was just then.

"Please, Georgy..." I groaned, desperate to make love with my sexy wife. Georgy played a little longer, no doubt enjoying the expression of agonised lust on my face before taking pity on the poor suffering soldier. I felt her raise up slightly, and then suddenly I was engulfed in her hot, most snugness as she slid me into her, slowly, slowly lowering herself onto me until I was completely embedded in her.

"Better, Ty?" she whispered, before once more rotating her hips and riding me, squeezing me with her internal muscles as she gyrated on top of me. Neither of us can take this for long, Georgy gets off on being in the driving seat, at making me come more or less at her whim, and I get to watch her whole body shake and quiver, which means I have a helluva time holding back. It's our favourite game, we both know the rules, and nobody loses.

Georgy had long given up the sensuous hip-rolling that made her whole body quiver and flex, now she was just pounding herself down onto me, while I was doing quadratic equations and target triangulation calculations in my head to keep me from just exploding inside her; I wanted to keep us on the edge as long as possible, my favourite thing in the whole world is pleasing my girl, and I wanted to keep pleasuring her as long as possible. Georgy gasped through a firecracker string of mini-orgasms but I somehow held on, I wanted her to remember why our afternoon delight was such an important place for us.

"Ooohhh Will, yess, yesss, YESSS!" she screamed as the big one hit, and that was it for me; I came so hard my cockhead actually burned with the pressure jetting into her, long, thrilling spurts that nearly turned me inside out, filling my girl with my essence.

Georgy slumped down bonelessly on me, utterly spent, her heart thundering and her breath whistling through her teeth. I was in no better shape; my ears were still popping and crackling from that massive climax and my arms felt limp as wet spaghetti. With the last of my strength I rolled onto my side so Georgy could slide off me and rest in the hollow of my arm.

I don't know how long I slept, not very long according to the mantel clock; it was only 4:30, which wasn't late at all, until a stray thought filtered through the post-coital lassitude; it was 4:30, the kids' school gave out at 3:30, and it was a only a short drive away; they should have been home, had their tea, and be creating bedlam by now, but the house was silent. Georgy stirred, looking at me sleepily.

"Baby-girl, where's the kids?" I murmured, and her eyes snapped open as she jerked upright.

"It's half-past four, where are they Ty?" she gasped, before jumping out of bed, slipping on a pair of panties and tugging a simple shift dress over her head as she made a beeline for the door.